THE  LIBRARY 

OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 
OF  CALIFORNIA 

LOS  ANGELES 


THE 


I10CKY  MOUNTAINS  AT  SUNSET, 


OTHER    POEMS. 


BY 


MRS.   HATTIE   ALMIRA   REED. 


BOSTON  : 

PUBLISHED   BY   B.   B.   RUSSELL,   55   CORNHILL. 
SAN  FRANCISCO  :   A.  L.  BANCROFT  &  CO. 

I873- 


Entered  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1873, 

BY  MRS.  H.  A.  REED, 
In  the  Office  of  the  Librarian  of  Congress  at  Washington. 


BOSTON  : 
RAND,  AVKRY,  &  Co.j  STERKOTYPERS  AND  PRINTERS. 


P5 


MY  BELOVED  DAUGHTERS, 

JOSIE    AND    LILLIE, 


IS  AFFECTIONATELY  DEDICATED 


BY  THEIR   MOTHER. 


7598C2 


CONTENTS. 


PACK. 

THE  ROCKY  MOUNTAINS  AT  SUNSET       ........  7 

EARTH I       ...  12 

THE  SPECTRE  UAND 16 

QUICKSANDS 21 

DOWN  IN  THE  VALLEY 23 

A  MESSAGE 24 

THE  DAY  is  BRIGHT 26 

DEAD 23 

THE  LOST  CHILDREN 33 

LINES  ON  THE  DEATH  OF  MRS.  DE  SOTO,  BURNED  SEPT.  3,  1872   .       .  06 

JEANIE 38 

THE  SEA       .-                      40 

BEAUTIFUL  TRESS 41 

MORNING 42 

A  POEM 41 

UNDER  THE  SNOW 43 

PEACE 48 

MEDITATION SO 

MY  MOTHER'S  GRAVE 02 

To-Mouuow o-t 

THE  AURORA  BOREALIS 55 

THOU  ART  NOT  HERE 59 

WAITING  • 61 

ADDRESSED  TO  DEITT 64 

A  LAMENT 71 

To  LITTLE  LIDA 78 

A  DREAM SO 

SOLILOQUY 86 

CAST  UP  BY  THE  WAVES 88 

LINES  ON  THE  BIRTHDAY  OF  A  FRIEND 91 

DAY 93 

How  MANY:  SILENT  VOICES! •    .       .       .       .96 

IN  EXILE ',><; 

THE  MINE  SHINES  BRIGHT loo 

PARTED 1- 

LIFE  AND  DEATH 1'iT 

MIDNIGHT      ....       J""^         - lo'j 

THE  SUICIDE no 

A    1'OKM    ON   THE   SEA 112 

SOLD lit 

THE  OLD  CHI-RCII 117 

THE  APACHE H9 

5 


6  CONTENTS. 

PACE. 

MELODY 123 

MARIA 124 

THE  BURIAL 125 

To  MY  BELOVED  DAUGHTER  LILIJE 126 

COME  UP  HIGHER 12? 

ON  THE  SANDS 129 

LYING  Low 131 

SUMMER ' .132 

MUSINGS 133 

IN  DARKNESS        ." 135 

DOWN  THE  BRIGHT  KIVER 136 

MELANCHOLY 137 

AN  IDYL 138 

No  MORE 139 

GOOD-NIGHT 140 

AT  KEST Ill 

WHAT  THE  MOON  SAW 142 

LOST 145 

A  DYING  HYMN 146 

AN  AUTUMN  DAY 148 

RAIN 149 

A  FRAGMENT 150 

NOWHERE  TO  GO 151 

ON  THE  BANK  OF  THE  PLATTE 153 

To  A  STAR 155 

SPIRIT  or  GRACE 158 

THE  BLOOD  OF  CHRIST 159 

A  VISION 100 

DAWN 162 

NORA 164 

PARTED 174 

DEAD 176 

THE  MORNING-GLORY 179 

CHANGES 181 

IN  VAIN 183 

THY  WILL  BE  DONE 186 

COME  BACK Iy7 

A  THUNDER-STORM 188 

ROSES .189 

THOU  DIDST  FORGET 101 

THE  WATCH-TOWER Iu4 

A  MIDNIGHT  DREAM 201 

DECORATION-DAY 203 

DECORATION-HYMN 204 

THE  VOICE  OF  NIGHT 205 

IN  THE  LONG-AGO 20S 

UPON  THE  HEIGHTS    ...' 209 

THE  SIERRAS 210 

DOLOR 212 

TO  JO.SKl'HINE _      214 


THE    ROCKY    MOUNTAINS, 


OTHEE     POEMS. 


THE   ROCKY   MOUNTAINS   AT   SUNSET. 

SEE  how  yon  sky  is  draped  with  gold, 

With  shining  purple  and  crimson  robes, 

Mist-like  in  form,  that  far  upward  stream 

In  the  track  just  traversed  by  the  blazing  sun, 

Which  smiled  ere  he  retired !     And  this 

Must  be  the  reflex  of  that  smile. 

He  dimpled  the  heaven's  fair  face 

Until  it  shone  with  thousand  wiles  ; 

He  crowned  the  eternal  snows  with  soft,  roseate  hues; 

Or,  creeping  over  them,  he  left  a  blood-red  glow 

On  each  frozen,  glacial  brow,  which  ever 

Smileth  back  to  meet  his  parting  glance. 

See  yon  gray  peaks,  shut  in 

By  massive  folding  clouds,  changing  and  mysterious ! 


8  THE  ROCKY  MOUNTAINS  AT  SUNSET. 

While  between  their  billowy  rifts  there  peep 

Long  silver  belts,  all  studded  with  sapphire  rays, 

Fringed  with  amber,  or  the  deeper  glow 

We  see  reflected  on  the  lake's  unrippled  bosom 

When  at  night  the  newly-risen  moon 

Smiles  far  down  in  its  shadowy  depths. 

Along  the  lines  where  stretch  the  lower  hills 

Blue  lights  quiver ;  and  the  shadows  flit 

Up  from  the  hollow  gray,  now  flooded  with 

Prismatic   light,    engendered   by   the   roll   of   fleecy 

waves 

Along  the  margin  of  the  heavier  mass. 
Oh  !  could  we  but  prison  the  changing  opal's  gleam  ; 
Catch  the  coruscating  diamond's  fire ; 
Grasp  the  sunbeam,  and  from  its  gold  extract 
The  finest  germ  of  all  its  beauty  ; 
And  gather  from  the  glittering  moon   that   looketh 

down 

One  beam  that  could,  with  its  transcendent  glow, 
Outshine  all  others ; 
Pluck  the  green  from  the  sounding 
Ocean's  wave  ;  borrow  from  the  stars  their  splendor, 
Mingling  the  essence  of  all  brightness  with 
A  rainbow,  that  a  token  is  of  God's  promise  ; 


THE  ROCKY  MOUNTAINS  AT  SUNSET. 

Then  cast  them  forth  against  the  radiant  sky,  — 
Might  they  not  melt  like  shadowy  mist  away 
Beside  the  glory  that  o'erhangs  the  western  gates, 
While,  perchance,  unseen  spirits   unbar  the   portals 

grand, 

Fold  back  the  glittering  drapery  that  enhanced 
The  dazzling  radiance  of  the  sun,  to  witness 
His  triumphant  exit  and  his  last  good-night? 
Oh  !  can  heaven  be  fairer  ?     Can  the  golden  streets, 
All  traversed  by  that  immortal  throng,  whose  robes 

of  Avhite 

May  even  now  sweep  down  in  wavy  fold, 
And  be  a  portion  of  that  strange  glitter ; 
That  hang  up  before  my  vision  like  a  veil, 
Dimly  revealing  what  glory  may  be  ours, 
When,  divested  of  these  earthly  garments, 
We  lie  down  to  sleep  in  everlasting  peace,  — 
Can  radiance  of  that  land  exceed 
This  which  now  dwells  upon  the  heavens, 
And  glimmers  in  its  massive  grandeur  o'er  the  earth, 
Which  might,  perchance,  be  likened  in  its  beauty 
To  the  jasper  sea  of  God's  eternal  city, 
Where  night  never  falls,  nor  day  ? 
If  if  be  fairer,  will  not  the  soul 


10          -     THE  ROCKY  MOUNTAINS  AT  SUNSET. 

Be  dumb  forevermore,  nor  dare  to  lift 
The  yearning  vision  up  beyond  this  pale  light's  glim 
mer  ? 

0  Father  !  hear  thy  sorrowing  child, 
And  let  this  scene  majestic  fill  my  soul 

With  such  thoughts  of  thee,  thy  tender  love   and 

care, 
That  I  may  walk  the  earth  as  one  treads  a  strange 

land, 

But  ever  sees  beyond  unfading  shores, 
All  girt  about  with  that  immortal  light 
Which  falls  upon  me  now  with  radiance  holy. 

1  pause  ;  for  slowly  coming  o'er  the  hills 

I  perceive  the  twilight  hour  in  sombre  vestments  clad. 
The  clouds  begin  to  break,  and  float  away 
Into  some  mysterious  realm  ;  while 
Darkness  stealeth  o'er  all  the  earth, 
And  from  out  the  descending  ni^ht 

O  O 

Come  shades  which  will  not  bear 
Day's  garish  light,  and  which  fall  upon  my  spirit 
With  foreboding  gloom  'mid  all  the  viewless  things 
That  are  abroad,  hiding  their  presence  in   the   dim 

night. 
Methinks  I  hear  the  faint  rustling 


TIL K  ROOKY  MOUNTAINS  AT  SUNSET.  It 

Of  their  snowy  pinion, 

And  catch  the  sound  of  their  departing  steps 

Through  the  soft  wind's  murmur. 

But  I  sit  as  one  girt  about  with  a  sweet  dream,' 

Which  semblance  bears  to  realities  strange  and  dim, 

Ever  haunting  mo,  of  some  far-off  shore 

That  I  sailed  past,  and  caught  faint  gleams 

Of  its  immortal  brightness  ;  while,  glittering 

In  its  midst,  I  saw  a  sea,  broad  and  grand, 

Lying  underneath  a  holy  light  engendered  not 

By  sun  nor  moon,  nor  yet  of  stars, 

But  was  a  reflex  of  that  glory  that  surrounds 

The  great  white  throne.     It  flooded,  too, 

The  pearly  gates  that  shut  me  out. 

Lo  !  I  sailed  past  into  the  shadowy  world 

Beyond  ;  but,  while  I  wander  'mid  its  clouds, 

I  still  behold  such  token  of  my  Father's  splendor, 

That  my  rapt  soul  will  evermore  retain 

The  radiant  vision,  and,  through 

And  through  all  the  years  to  come,  will  deem 

It  but  a  type   of  that   glory  which  no   mortal  eye 

beholds, 
But  which  awaits  us  on  von  deathless  shore. 


12  EARTH. 


EARTH. 

WITHIN  the  bosom  of  old  Mother  Earth  from  whence 

we  sprung, 

Where  Promethean  heats  generate,  and  melt 
The  massive  rocks  into  a  molten  glow 
Like  one  vast  crucible,  resolving  the  elements   into 

form ; 

Upheaving  mountains,  from  whence  volcanic  fires 
Belch  forth,  and  pour  their  dreadful  floods 
Adown  the  plains  in  one  continuous  stream, 
Sending  sulphuric  vapor  out  upon  the  air, 
And  smoky  clouds  up  to  the  sunlit  heavens ; 
Whose  awful  voice  thunders  far  above  the  ocean's 

roar, 

When  tempestuous  winds  into  fury  lash  the  waves 
That  coruscate  and  gleam  with  lights  reflected 
From  varied  forms  and  hues  prismatic  ; 

• 

In  voluted  caverns,  whose  labyrinths  wind 
Underneath,  —  the  mountains  lift  and  bend 


EARTH.  lo 

To  unknown  regions,  where  calcareous  pendants  hang, 

Wearing  shape  and  form  no  art  can  imitate  ; 

And  stalagmite,  presenting  to  the  eye  figures 

Clothed  with  the  aspect  of  humanity, 

Which  ever  keep  a  seeming  watch, 

Like  sentinels  frozen  into  everlasting  silence. 

Here  deep,  still  lakes  repose,  unrippled,  cold,  and 

limpid, 

Which,  perchance,  are  fed  by  crystal  drops 
Of  melted  snow,  that  slip  slowly  through 
Creviced  granite  and  Jurassic  beds  ; 
And  the  rivers  underground,  that  swiftly  sweep, 
Terminating   in   boiling   caldrons,   whose   rumblings 

low 

We  hear,  like  the  distant  thunder's  mutterings  ; 
The  eternal  mountains,  that  hang  above  the  hills 
In  vastness  and  sublimity, 
From  which  the  out-cropping  gold  is  garnered, 
Or  carried  by  the  ever-changing  currents  down 
Through  rugged  gorges,  overleaping  cliffs, 
Resting  in  the  huge  bowlder's  niche, 
Or  buried  'neath  the  yellow  sandstones,  where 
Deciduous  leaves  and  earth  cretaceous  shall  hide  it, 
Until  some  exploring  mind,  drawn  thither 


14  EARTH. 

By  magnetic  power,  shall  disembowel  it 

From  its  resting-place ; 

And  buried  'neath  the  crust  and  mould 

That  germinate  the  tiny  seeds,  from  which 

Unnumbered  blossoms  spring  to  life  ; 

And  mighty  forests,  iiitwining  their  gnarled  roots 

Round  igneous  rocks,  reaching  down  through  soft 

Beds  of  marl  and  earth  erosive,  feeding  oif  the  sili- 

cious  mass, 

And  drawing  sustenance  from  deposits  that  roll 
Down  the  mountain-side,  and  are  formed 
By  atmospheric  influence  into  soil  alluvial. 
Underneath  granitic  beds  drops  of  carbon 
Are  resolved  into  adamantine  hardness, 
And  repose  through  all  the  silent  ages, 
Until  Nature,  as  if  wearied  of  her  hidden  jewel, 
Disgorges  it  in  some  convulsive  moment, 
Leaving  it  uncovered  on  the  gleaming  sands, 
Over  which  clear,  limpid  waters  flow,  until 
The  placer-miner  plucks  it  from  its  shining  bed, 
Barters  it  in  traffic,  when  it  is  borne 
From  land  to  land,  cut  and  fashioned, 
And  girt  about  with  golden  bands,  which, 
Perchance,  may  deck  the  brow  of  monarch. 


EARTH.  15 

O  Earth  !  thou  dost  bear  within  thy  bosom 

Secrets  which  no  eye  can  penetrate, 

No  mind  can  comprehend.     What  beauty 

Rests  beneath  thy  fertile  soil, 

Whose  blossoming  flowers  perfume  the  air, 

Whose  surface  teems  with  life  and  joy ! 

What  sublimity  !  what  power !     The  hand 

That  rolls  back  from  the  ancient  mountain's  brow 

Its  enshrouding  mysteries,  and  bids 

The  leaping  water  carry  on  its  breast 

Each  herald  of  its  greatness,  upheaving 

From  old  Ocean's  bed  the  sounding  shells  ; 

And  gives  power  to  the  coral  insect,  —  power 

To  rear  its  palace  within  the  watery  caves ; 

And  keeps  the  sun  to  its  appointed  course, 

And  the  stars  in  the  vast  illimitable  dome  above  us, — 

None  can  comprehend  its  workings,  until,  perchance, 

Death  shall  draw  aside  the  veil,  and  the  spirit, 

Purified  from  earthly  dross  and  pain, 

Heaven's  nearer  glories  shall  behold. 


16  THE  SPECTRE  HAND. 


THE  SPECTRE   HAND. 

SEE  this  lily  pale,  this  lily  fair, 

All  girt  about  with  beauties  rare  I 

I  plucked  it  from  yon  vale,  just  where, 

Beneath  the  shade,  the  winding  stream 
Reflects  in  its  depths  a  stray  moonbeam ; 
And  glitters  there,  too,  a  starry  gleam. 

On  this  gemmed  couch  the  lily  lay, 
So  fair  and  sweet,  it  seemed  to  say, 
"  I  bloom  for  night,  and  not  for  day." 

Embossed  with  gold,  embossed  with  green, 

Oh !  never  fairer  sight  was  seen 

Than  this  lily  asleep  in  its  velvet  sheen. 

On  swept  the  waves  with  musical  plaint 
Past  the  spot,  where,  like  some  sweet  saint, 
It  lay  inwrapped  with  odors  faint. 


THE  SPECTRE  HAND.  17 

Slow  sailed  the  moon  far  above  ; 

Yet  it  seemed  to  look  down  with  eyes  of  love, 

Veiled  in  clouds  like  a  white-winged  dove. 

Thou  wert  like  a  ghost,  O  lily  pale ! 

Rising  from  out  the  fragrant  vale 

Where  the  waves  keep  up  a  plaintive  wail. 

For  when  over  the  moon  there  drifted  a  cloud, 
Misty  and  white  like  a  spotless  shroud, 
And  the  wind  found  voice  to  shriek  aloud, 

O'er  thy  waxen  petals  there  hovered  a  hand, 
On  shadowy  finger  there  circled  a  band,  — 
A  golden  hoop  on  the  shadowy  hand. 

On  a  dimpled  finger  that  ring  I  placed 
In  years  agone,  while  I  fondly  traced 
The  blush  that  mantled  thy  modest  face. 

A  jewel  it  bore  of  rarest  mould, 
Like  a  lily  fashioned  in  bed  of  gold. 
Encircled  all  with  opaline  fold. 


18  THE  SPECTRE  HAND. 

Above  this  lily  there  gleamed  to-night 
On  the  spectre  hand  so  wan  and  white 
That  jewel  rare  in  its  glistening  light. 

"What  dost  thou  here,  O  spirit  pale  ? 
Why  hauntest  thou  this  fragrant  vale 
Where  the  waves  sweep  by  in  plaintive  wail  ? 

I  left  thee  asleep  where  the  daisies  bloom, 

To  wander  afar  in  despair  and  gloom  : 

Why  comest  thou  up  from  thy  lowly  tomb  ?  — 

Where  spring  the  fragrant  grasses ; 

Where  the  river  flows  ; 
Where,  in  shining  masses, 

Blooms  the  pale  primrose ; 
And  the  purple  dasies 

Are  nodding  in  the  breeze ; 
And  the  freckled  lilies 

Droop  their  emerald  leaves 
In  the  limpid  water  ; 

And  the  bindweed  weaves 
Around  the  wooded  altar, 

And  to  the  willow  cleaves ; 


THE  SPECTRE  HAND.  19 

While  the  clouds  of  gold, 

Flushing  all  the  heavens, 

• 

Hang  down  in  massive  fold 

Before  the  gates  of  even, 
Barring  from  our  view 

The  pearly  streets,  the  jasper, 
The  city  ever  new,  — 

Flying  ever  faster 
Across  the  bending  blue, 

Until  the  solemn  Night 
Cometh  down  the  mountain, 

And  with  her  shadowy  light 
Veileth  tree  and  fountain. 

Art  come  from  city  whose  walls  are  bound 
With  jasper  and  pearl,  and  girt  around 
With  immortal  light,  and  glory  crowned  ? 

Ah,  sweet  soul !  come  not  here. 
I  saw  thee  lie  on  thy  sable  bier, 
Cold  and  dead,  yet  shed  no  tear : 

For  I  pictured  thy  soul  in  its  upward  flight ; 
And  the  gates  that  shut  thee  from  my  sight 
Oped,  methought,  into  worlds  of  light, 


20  THE  SPECTRE  BAUD. 

Where  lies  a  silver  sea, 

Placid,  broad,  and  grand, 

• 

Begirt  by  emerald  shore, 

Begirt  by  emerald  strand,  — 

A  city  with  twelve  gates : 

The  gates  are  wrought  around 

With  sapphire  and  with  pearl, 
With  amethyst  all  crowned. 

Why  comest  thou  from  that  world  of  bliss, 
In  spectre  form,,  to  the  shades  of  this  ? 
Findest  thou  aught  up  there  amiss  ? 

See  !  the  moon  is  hid  in  cloudy  white  : 

Oh !  plume  thy  pinions  for  backward  flight ; 

Retire,  sweet  shade,  to  yon  realms  of  light. 

For  loud  moans  the  wave  ; 

The  wind  moans  aloud  : 
Across  the  moon's  disk 

There  lieth  a  white  cloud. 
I  have  plucked  the  pale  lily  :  . 

To  me  it  is  a  token 
Of  the  hand  that  bound  us, 

Death  left  unbroken  ; 


QUICKSANDS.  21 

For,  reaching  far  from  heaven, 

I  discern  a  spirit-hand 
Through  the  gates  of  even,  — 

The  invisible  band 
That  will  our  souls  unite 

In  yonder  deathless  land. 


QUICKSANDS. 

JUST  where  the  surf  foams  on  the  pebbly  shore 

When  the  surging  tide  rolls  in  ; 
And  through  a  chasm  by  tempests  rent, 

Where  it  beats  with  unceasing  din 
'Gainst  rocky  sides,  all  hollowed  out 
With  the  whirlpool's  rush  and  eddying  rout,  — 

Here  the  treacherous  quicksands  sleep 
Like  shining  grains  of  yellow  gold  ; 

And  bars  of  white  sunshine  all  softly  creep 
Across  the  gray  and  lonely  wold 

That  is  swept  by  winds  and  tidal-waves, 

Which  come,  perchance,  from  ocean-caves. 


22  QUICKSANDS. 

And  these  glittering  sands  slowly  ingulf, 
Their  treacherous  beauty  'neath, 

The  unwary  footsteps  that  venture  on, 
And  mercilessly  round  them  wreathe  ; 

Drawing  them  down  in  their  pitiless  deeps, 

Creeping  o'er  them  in  pitiless  heaps. 

And  thus  in  life.     I  one  day  roamed 
'Neath  summer  suns  and  summer  skies, 

That  aspect  wore  almost  as  fair 
As  the  golden  streets  of  paradise  : 

And  the  quicksands  of  life  so  smiling  lay, 

All  robed  with  glamour  that  happy  day, 

That  with  faltering  step  I  ventured  nigh, 
Lured  by  the  evanescent  light 

Which  beamed  on  me,  as  stars  that  shine 
On  the  ocean's  bed  at  night ; 

But  all  that  was  prized  the  most  by  me 

They  slowly  ingulfed  with  mocking  glee. 


DOWN  IN  THE   VALLEY.  23 


DOWN  IN   THE   VALLEY. 

DOWN  in  the  valley  where  the  swift  waters  flow ; 
Down  in  the  valley  where  the  wild  roses  blow ; 
Where  the  moon  is  rising  like  a  fair  young  queen, 
Flecking  all  the  woodland  with  her  silvery  sheen ; 

Down  in  the  valley,  where  the  night-winds  at  play 
Rustle  all  the  fern-leaves,  like  fairy-feet  astray  ; 
Where  the  singing  water  leapeth  all  the  night 
O'er  the  yellow  sands,  a  band  of  liquid  light,  — 

Ellen  lies  asleep  :  around  her  form  of  grace 
A  snowy  shroud  inwrappeth  ;  around  her  marble  face 
A  rosebud- wreath  intwineth ;  on  her  pulseless  breast 
The  folded  hands  are  lying  in  one  unbroken  rest. 

Upon  the  heavens  I  gaze.     One  blazing  star 
Shoots  from  its  orbit  into  unbroken  space  afar ; 
A  cloud  veils  the  moon  ;  the  brightness  of  the  night 
Wan  shades  ingulf ;  but  a  belt  of  starry  light 


24  A   MESSAGE. 

Crowns  all  the  heavens.     Methinks  Ellen  dwells 
Behind  that  radiant  splendor  that  nightly  swells 
Into  floods  of  glory  up  in.  worlds  of  light, 
Placid,  grand,  serene,  beyond  mortal  sight. 


A  MESSAGE. 

ON  snowy  pinions,  sweet  dove, 

Fly  afar  for  me 
The  swelling  tide  above 

Of  yonder  restless  sea. 

Float  not  near  the  cloud 

That  crimson  hangeth  down, 

Flaunting  its  banner  proud, 
Wreathed  with  purple  crown. 

'T would  robe  thee  in  its  fold, 

O  bird  of  snowy  wing  ! 
Soaring  through  the  misty  gold 

That  round  the  sunbeams  cling. 


A    MKSSMtE.     .  25 

Fly,  swift,  sweet  clove,  oil !  fly 

To  yonder  sunny  land. 
Around  thy  tiny  throat  I'll  tie 

A  sheeny  silken  band : 
Amid  its  folds  shall  lie 

Of  hair  a  yellow  strand. 

This  token  bear,  sweet  dove, 

Swift  as  the  morning  star 
Dims  in  the  heavens  above : 

Oh,  fly  thou  afar 

Unto  a  summer  land,  O  bird ! 

Girt  by  tropic  blooms, 
Where  pale  shades  and  weird 

Sleep  in  the  cavern's  gloom. 

Pause  not  in  the  midnight  hour 
Beneath  the  glimmering  moon, 

Pale  with  mysterious  power : 
But  thy  white  pinions  plume 

For  the  ancient  land,  the  golden, 

Bound  by  the  silver  tide; 
While  the  happy  hours,  the  olden, 
•  Softly  forth  do  glide 


26  THE  DAY  IS  BRIGHT. 

From  a  chamber  silent  and  dim, 
From  deathless  memory's  hall, 

Like  harmonies  creeping  in 
That  on  my  spirit  fall. 

Then  away,  sweet  bird !  fly  away 
Where  one  awaiteth  me, 

In  the  mystic  glamour'  of  a  day, 
Over  the  restless  sea. 


THE   DAY  IS   BRIGHT. 

THE  day  is  bright.     I'll  gang  to  the  hills ; 

I'll  gang  to  the  mossy  glen, 
Where  saft  and  sweet  the  dancin'  rills 

Are  singin'  a  song  I  ken. 

The  loch  is  shiuin'  lik'  yellow  gold  ; 

The  hedges  are  bright  and  gay ; 
The  purple  heather  shines  on  the  wold, 

The  sun  on  the  fields  o'  May. 


THE  DAY  IS  BRIGHT.  27 

Oh  !  sair  is  my  heart ;  mine  eyne  are  dim 

Wi'  weepin'  in  the  nicht, 
When  the  mime  is  pale  'round  her  golden  rim, 

And  the  stars  in  the  heavens,  sae  bricht, 

Twinkle  and  twinkle.     Oh,  my  hive  is  dead! 

And  saft  the  nicht- winds  blow  ; 
The  wild  rose  scatters  its  blooms  o'  red, 

The  hawthorn  its  blooms  o'  snow. 

But  I'll  dry  mine  eyne ;  for  the  day  is  bright, 

And  the  sun  shines  sweet  and  fair : 
I'll  take  my  way  alang  fields  sae  light, 

Though  my  heart  wi'  grief  is  sair. 

Alang  the  lane  where  the  buds  o'  spring 

Are  breakin'  into  bloom, 
Alang  the  lane  where  the  mavis  sings 

All  in  the  golden  noon, 

111  gither  from  the  hedges  the  blooms  sae  bright, 

White  as  the  driftin'  snow  : 
I'll  scatter  them  saft,  I'll  scatter  them  licht, 

Where  my  luve  is  lyin'  low. 


28  DEAD. 


DEAD. 

I'VE  been  dead  these  many  years : 

Over  me  go  the  wheels 

In  wild  discordant  peals ; 
The  clanging  bells  ring  out ; 
And  the  noisy  children  shout 

Merrily  across  the  fields. 
Round  and  round  the  raven  flies, 
Dashing  up  to  the  bending  skies ; 

Then,  flapping  his  wings,  away  he  floats, 

Croaking  forth  his  dismal  notes. 
Over  my  head,  by  the  mossy  stone, 
The  seeds  expand  by  the  wayside  sown, 

And  bud  and  break  into  curious  bloom ; 

While  up  I  reach  from  my  mouldy  tomb 
With  icy  hand,  their  roots  to  twine 
Around  this  marble  brow  o'  mine. 

Over  me  go  the  wheels  ; 

And  through  the  sunny  fields 


DEAD.  29 

The  speckled  humming-bird 
Dreamily  floateth,  unheard 

By  all  but  me  in  my  mouldy  bed ; 

While  harsh  and  discordant  over  my  head 
The  wild  and*  clanging  bell 
Pealeth  forth  a  dismal  knell. 

In  years  agone  I  shut  my  eyes 

To  dream  an  hour  away 

Until  the  drowsy  Day 
Should  don  her  nightly  robe, 
And  all  upon  the  globe 

Be  wrapped  in  blessed  sleep  ; 

While  the  stars  above,  that  keep 
Their  evening  lamps  a-trim, 
Faintly  burned,  and  dim. 

I  awake  beneath  this  mould : 

Round  and  round  in  icy  fold 
Death  inwraps  rne ;  and  the  wheels 
Crunching  go  over  the  fields. 
The  gold  of  my  hair  intwines  my  feet : 

No  lady  in  her  bower, 

Dreaming  by  the  hour, 
Hath  such  silken  sheen 
In  her  locks,  I  ween. 


30  DEAD. 

Seeming  I  lie  asleep  ; 

But  I  wake,  and  weep 
That  over  me  go  the  wheels, 
And  the  clanging  peals, 

And  the  dismal  knell 

Of  a  discordant  bell. 

They  bound  me  with  a  silken  shroud, 

And  folded  o'er  my  breast 

My  hands  in  quiet  rest. 
With  the  lilies  waxen  white, 
And  roses  rare  and  bright, 

They  int wined  my  brow, 

Resolved  to  ashes  now,  — 
All  but  one  tiny  pearl 
Left  in  my  golden  curl : 

My  bridal  veil,  like  a  misty  cloud, 
Hath  melted  as  cloud  away 
Afar  in  the  field  of  day. 

Over  me  go  the  wheels ; 

And  through  the  summer  fields 
The  raven  circles  round  ; 
While  dismalty  doth  sound 

The  flapping  of  his  wings, 

And  the  bell  that  rings. 


DEAD.  31 


There  are  footsteps  overhead 

Passing  with  their  heavy  tread  ; 
There  are  voices  faint  and  sweet 
Mingled  with  the  sounding  feet. 

Oh  !  pass  light,  pass  slow ; 

And  let  your  music  flow 

Like  the  voice  of  saint  away 
In  the  realms  of  endless  day. 

There's  one  I  left  in  years  agone, 
When  I  closed  my  eyes  to  dream  : 
Oh !  he  doth  weep,  I  ween, 

That  round  and  round  the  mould 

Creepeth  like  a  fold 
Over  my  feet  and  hands ; 
Over  the  shining  strands, 

The  silken  gold,  o'  my  hair ; 

Around  the  robe  I  wear. 
Between  us  lies  a  yawning  gulf 

Spanned  by  icy  bridge, 

Begirt  by  icy  hedge  : 
Its  waves  are  cold  and  dark  ; 
And  the  fainting  traveller  marks 

Their  chilling,  awful  swell 

As  he  glanceth  back  to  tell 


32  DEAD. 

Where  the  breakers  loom  ahead, 
Sweeping  round  their  rocky  bed  ; 

But  all  go  down  in  the  whirling  tide,  — 
Down  in  the  deep,  and  there  abide. 

Dead,  dead,  these  many  years ! 

Over  me  go  the  wheels, 

Harrowing  all  the  fields. 
Hark  I  the  bells  ring  out ; 
Merrily  the  children  shout ; 

With  heavy  tread  and  slow, 

Over  me  come  and  go 
The  grating  sounds  of  many  feet, 
Mingled  with  the  voices  sweet. 

One  step  falters  in  its  tread 

As  it  passes  nigh  my  bed. 
There's  a  rattling  sound  ;  a  grave  yawns  wide; 
A  coffin's  lowered  close  by  my  side. 

Now  over  us  go  the  wheels ; 

The  tolling  bell  in  mournful  peals 

Floats  far  above  the  withered  fields. 


THE  LOST  CHILDREN.  33 


THE    LOST    CHILDREN. 

THE  warld  was  still ;  the  mune  hung  low 
All  'gainst  the  western  walls  ; 

And  swift  the  f  ashin'  waters  flowed 
Abune  the  windy  falls, 

Where  lay  the  snaw  so  white  and  braw, 
Lik'  a  spotless  windin'-sheet ; 

And  gleamin'  it  lay  wi'out  a  flaw 
Upon  the  mountains  steep, 

Abune  the  cot  where  twa  infants  lay 

Lik'  lambkins  fast  asleep, 
Or  lik'  twin  rosebuds  that  in  May 

Abune  the  hedges  peep, 

"VVT  folded  hands  and  folded  feet, 

Wi'  ringlets  lik'  the  gold 
That  in  the  mountain-daisies  sleep, 

Or  'mong  the  lilies  fold. 


34  THE  LOST  CHILDREN. 

The  nicht  was  cauld ;  the  winds  blew  on  ; 

The  stars  they  blinked  sae  bricht ! 
The  mune,  that  shone  the  hills  upon, 

Now  bade  the  waiid  good-night. 

The  babes  slept  on,  nae  circlin'  arm 

Of  mither  foldin'  round 
The  limbs  o'  grace  ;  yet  each  cherub  face 

Wi'  cherub  smile  was  bound. 

The  lips  were  white,  the  lips  were  cauld, 
And  ne'er  would  babble  more 

Beside  the  waves  that  slush  and  fauld 
Around  Loch  Lomond's  shore. 

The  morn  woke  up ;  the  sun  rose  high  ; 

The  warld  was  on  its  feet ; 
The  cauld  winds  blew,  and  whistled  nigh 

The  infants  in  their  sleep, 

But  waked  them  nae.     Oh !  sweet  the  twa 

Must  slumber  in  the  cot :    * 
For  father's  call  they  answer  nae 

Nor  mither's  croon  sae  saft ; 


DEATH  OF  MRS.  DE  SOTO.  35 

For  a'  in  the  nicht  the  angels  bricht, 

That  dwell  abune  the  skies, 
Gaed  softly  by  in  robes  o'  white, 

And  closed  the  babies'  eyes. 

And  when  the  mune  gaed  quickly  down 

On  ither  warlds  to  shine, 
And  the  stars  that  blinked  sae  braw  upon 

The  snaws  of  winter-time,  — 

All  in  the  dark  their  sinless  souls 

Crossed  to  the  ither  side ; 
And  the  angels  bright  in  robes  o'  white 

Carried  them  over  the  tide. 


LINES  ON  THE  DEATH  OF  MRS.  DE  SOTO, 
BURNED    SEPT.  3,  1872. 

TOLL,  bells !  a  soul  has  passed  away ; 

Pray,  priest,  in  stole  of  gray, 

Above  the  casket  where  the  roses  lay, 


36  DEATH  OF  MRS.    DE  SOTO. 

Above  their  waxen  white. 

Lift  not  the  lid  ;  for  mortal  sight 

Will  start  aghast  in  pale  affright 

At  the  headless  trunk  which  therein  lies, 
Charred  and  blackened,  with  awful  guise  : 
'Tis  all  that  will  greet  the  tear-dimmed  eyes. 

There's  no  sikefi  hair  to  softly  fold 
Back  from  the  brow  in  rippling  gold, 
Or  bind  or  braid,  as  in  days  of  old, 

With  a  rose  that's  white,  or  rose  that's  red, 
And  pearl  that's  rare  from  the  ocean's  bed, 
Or  violets  sweet  by  dewdrops  fed ; 

No  feet  to  fold  ;  no  hands  to  lay 

O'er  her  pulseless  breast,  and  softly  say, 

"  She  seems  asleep  this  sunny  day." 

Oh,  nought  but  this  !     The  roses  pale 
Lie  light  upon  her,  a  fragrant  veil, 
That  stilleth  never  the  sobbing  wail 


DEATH  OF  MRS.   DE  SOTO.  o7 

Heard  in  the  chancel,  heard  in  the  aisle, 
Where  sweet  music  stealeth  all  the  while, 
As  if  angels  sang  in  that  sunbeam's  smile 

That  lieth  on  casket,  that  lieth  on  pall, 
And  on  her  grave  will  evermore  fall 
With  the  tender  grace  that  gladdens  all. 

O  souls  that  grieve  for  this  one  gone ! 
See  ye  not  her  'midst  the  shining  throng, 
'Mid  ranks  that  sing  one  endless  song  ? 

Hear  ye  not  through  the  clouds  the  sound 

Of  angel-harps  that  echo  round 

The  gates  of  gold  with  jasper  crowned  ? 

Know  ye  not  now  on  golden  shore 
Her  feet  will  falter,  ah  !  never  more, 
That  oft  were  weary,  and  bruised  sore, 

As  they  pressed  the  flower,  or  pressed  the  thorn, 
Or  meekly  waited  for  the  day  to  dawn 
Which  ushered  in  one  endless  morn  ? 


38  JEAN  IE. 


JEANIE. 

O  HITHER  !  me  heart  is  verra  sair ; 

But  I'll  don  me  bravest  gown, 
I'll  snood  me  silken  hair, 

And  gae  to  yonder  town. 

Snaw-white  and  braw  shall  be  the  rose 

I'll  gither  by  the  way ; 
Snaw-white  and  braw  the  lily  blows 

Where  the  yorlin  croons  his  lay. 

The  mavis  is  singin'  in  the  glen 
Where  Jeanie  used  to  sing,  — 

Jeanie,  that  died  o'  grief,  ye  ken, 
Alang  the  blooms  o'  spring,  — 

Jeanie  that  was  like  the  lilies'  snaw, 
Wi'  a  rose  o'  red  on  ither  cheek,  — 

Jeanie,  that  stately  was,  and  braw, 
But  meek  as  vi'lets  meek. 


JEAN  IE.  39 

Jeanie  lo'ed  :  but  Jamie  was  fause,  — 

Fause  as  the  fickle  wind ; 
Cauld  winter's  blast,  and  winter's  frost, 

Ne'er  showin'  so  unkind. 

So  Jeanie  wilted  as  flowerets  wilt 

Alang  the  emerant  lane  : 
She  ca'ed  for  her  kirtle,  she  ca'ed  for  her  kilt ; 

And  Jeanie's  soul  was  gane. 

Now,  mither,  ye  ken  why  me  heart  is  sair; 

But  I'll  don  me  bravest  gown, 
Wi'  silken  snood  I'll  bind  me  hair, 

And  gae  to  yonder  town. 

Snaw-white  and  braw  shall  be  the  rose 

I'll  gither  in  the  lane, 
Since  snaw-white  and  braw  the  lily  blows 

Where  Jeanie's  soul  is  gane. 


40  THE  SEA. 


THE   SEA. 

THE  sea,  the.  never-resting,  solemn  sea, 

That  rolls  in  majesty  away, 
While  over  countless  treasures  of  untold  wealth 

Its  foam-crested  billows  play  ! 

Against  rock-bound  coast  and  sandy  shore 
The  sullen  tide  rolls  in  and  out ; 

And  the  wild  winds  sing  an  anthem  too, 
As  they  restlessly  roam  about. 

When  night  descends  with  gentle  grace 

Over  earth  and  sea  and  sky, 
And  soft  stars  glitter  and  shine, 

And  the  round  full  moon  sails  by,  — 

Then  the  sea  is  decked  in  its  fairest  robes, 

And  its  waves  opalescent  flow, 
And  gleam  with  hues  of  sapphire  and  gold 

And  the  moonlight's  radiant  glow. 


KEAU'llFUL    IREbS.  41 


And  the  sea  ever  remorselessly  rolls 
O'er  the  dead  in  their  silent  sleep, 

And  ever  will  roll,  and  remorslessly  roll, 
And  around  them  softly  creep, 

Till  the  trump  of  God  shall  call  them  up 
From  all  the  earth  and  lonely  sea, 

And  bid  them  rise,  where  from  death  and  sea 
The  longing  soul  is  forever  free. 


BEAUTIFUL   TRESS. 

BEAUTIFUL  tress,  that  shines  like  gold  ! 
Beautiful  tress ! 

The  head  you  deck, 

The  marbled  neck 
That  your  glittering  sheen  infolds, 

The  brow  you  kiss 

With  soft  caress, 

Each  yellow  mesh 

That  downward  floats  like  silken  strands 
Where  folded  rest  the  dimpled  hands,  — 


42  MORNING. 

Beautiful  tress  on  brow  of  snow  ! 

Beautiful  tress! 
When  sorrow  comes, 
Will  you  whiten  then 
In  time's  silent  ebb  and  silent  flow  ? 
As  the  years  flit  by, 
Will  their  echoing  sigh 
Reverberating  die 
In  Memory's  untenanted  halls, 
Soundless,  save  when  the  spirit  calls  ? 


MORNING. 

MORN  creeps  o'er  the  world  with  silent  step, 
Trailing  her  robes  of  glittering  white 
O'er  these  ancient  hills  and  ancient  plains  ; 
While  the  mountains  gleam  with  purple  light, 
And  grandly  tower  to  the  glowing  skies, 
And  stretch  away  in  power  and  might 
Each  awful  chain  and  dark  ravine, 


MORNING.  43 

Where  the  foaming  waters  madly  leap, 

And  ever  rush  on  with  sullen  roar 

Through  rocky  caves,  where  the  echoes  sleep, 

"Winding  and  creeping,  with  forces  spent, 

To  the  lake  below,  so  dark  and  deep, 

O'er  whose  slumberous  waves  and  soundless  shore 

No  glorious  sunlight  will  softly  creep. 

But  the  snow-white  pigeon,  that- rears  its  young 

On  the  mountain's  loftiest  peak, 

Sees  mirrored  down  in  its  quiet  depths 

Its  own  spotted  wing  and  crimson  beak. 

When  the  noonday  sun  gilds  all  the  earth 

With  its  radiant  golden  glow  ; 

And  snow- crystals  melt  'neath  its  burning  gaze, 

And  softly  glide  down  to  the  vales  below, 

Leaving  behind  them  such  marvellous  blooms 

As  spring  to  life  by  the  glittering  snow,  — 

Then,  down  in  the  deep  and  shadowy  lake, 

Wild,  rocky  cliffs  reflected  gleam, 

And  lifting  clouds  float  lightly  o'er ; 

While  all  the  glory  and  glint  and  sheen 

That  infolds  the  earth,  and  infolds  the  sky, 

A  soft  grace  lends  to  the  gorgeous  scene. 

And,  through  all  the  dim  ages  yet  to  come, 


44  A   POEM. 

These  hoary  mountains  will  ever  rise. 
Till  time  into  eternity  shall  sweep 
All  that  here  gather,  —  the  old  and  wise, 
All  mourning  souls,  and  'those  that  yearn 
For  the  pearly  streets  of  paradise. 


A    POEM. 

THE  poor  actor  on  the  stage  of  life 

Frets  out  his  feeble  existence  in  an  hour, 

And  passes  on  beyond  the  gates  of  death, 

Where  all  the  rich,  the  gay,  the  honored, 

The  old,  the  young,  have  laid  down  in  silent  rest. 

But  the  soul,  that  germ  of  immortality, 

God-given,  a  part  of  God  himself,  — 

Where,  or  in  what  silent  shades,  does  it  repose  ? 

In  this  fevered  life  it  ever  groped  in  darkness  ; 

Ever  with  unsatisfied  longings  upward  gazed, 

Looking  to  the  light  that  shines  from  Calvary's  cross. 

Oh !  could  we  but  peer  beyond  those  realms 

Where  dwell  in  holy  peace  countless  numbers 


A  POEM.  45 

Of  souls  redeemed,  no  backward  gaze, 
No  thought  of  death  or  pain  or  parting, 
Could  mar  the  spirit's  calm  : 
For  on  the  vision  then  would  burst  the  light 
From  golden  streets  and  sapphire  walls  ; 
And  on  the  ear  would  fall  the  sweetest  music 
From  angel-harps  and  angel- voices,  ever  tuned 
To  praise  around  the  great  white  throne, 
And  by  the  jasper  sea  of  God's  eternal  city. 
O  fair,  green  earth,  with  radiant  beauty  robed  ! 
O  still  firmament,  where  yonder  stars 
Glitter  and  shine,  and  where  the  white  moon 
Sails  on  'mid  cloud  all  silver-tipped  and  fleecy ! 

0  mountains,  that  rear  your  snow-capped  crests 
To  kiss  the  clouds  !  6  mighty  ocean, 
Freighted  with  costly  ships  and  precious  lives !  — 
Ye  all,  all,  will  pass  away,  and  from  your  ruins 
Rise  heavens  new,  and  a  bright,  new  earth. 

But  the  little  child  who  smiles  and  weeps, 

And  is  so  frail  that  a  rude  blast 

May  quench  its  feeble  life,  possesses  that  immortal 

germ 
Over  which  death  hath  no  power. 

1  pause  in  silent  awe,  and  ponder 


46  UNDER    THE  SNOW. 

O'er  this  great  plan. 

All  fame,  all  pleasure,  so  little  seem, 

So  brief,  so  insignificant, 

That  I  wonder  why  we  weep  and  moan 

O'er  such  little  pains  and  little  griefs. 

But  turn  our  vision  to  the  blessed  light 

Which  at  every  toilsome  step  may  brighter  gleam 

Into  the  darkened  soul ;  and,  as  Death  approaches 

With  cold  and  clammy  touch  to  crush  out  the  life 

Of  those  who  walk  with  us  this  earthly  vale, 

It  may  go  with  us  even  down  to  the  dark  tomb, 

Which  ever  yawning  stands  with  open  arms, 

Ready  to  receive  our  mortal  part. 


UNDER   THE   SNOW. 

UNDER  the  snow  she  lies  asleep, 
•  Under  the  snow  : 

The  wild  winds  blow, 
And  around  her  creep, 
And  around  her  sweep, 

As  they  come  and  go. 


UNDER   THE  SNOW.  47 

Her  folded  hands  lie  still 

Over  pulseless  breast 

Forever  at  rest, 

And  meekly  folded,  and  meekly  crossed ; 
While  I  weep  for  all  that  I  have  lost, 

All  I  loved  best. 
Under  the  snow  my  darling  lies  cold, 

Never  to  know 

How  I  weep  in  my  woe 
That  the  dampness  and  mould 
Her  grace  doth  infold 

Under  the  snow ; 
And  the  stars  shine  soft  and  clear 

In  the  azure  depths  above 

Like  harbingers  of  love  ; 
And  the  pale  moon  sails  on, 
While  a  cloud  has  come  and  gone 

Like  a  white-winged  dove. 
But,  if  under  the  snow  her  form  lies  cold, 

Under  the  snow, 

Her  soul,  I  know, 

Is  dazed  by  the  splendor  that  greets  her  sight 
With  its  glimmer  and  glory  and  shining  light, 

And  radiant  glow. 


48  PEACE. 


PEACE. 

ONE  day  I  idly  wandered  forth  : 

My  soul  was  wrapped  in  mournful  gloom  ; 

And  all  the  fair,  sweet  earth  and  sky, 

And  all  its  blush  and  all  its  bloom, 

Seemed  to  exhale  a  melancholy  light, 

Faint  and  dim  as  shadowy  night. 

Yet  summer  airs  around  me  played, 

Summer  flowers  around  me  bloomed, 

And  sunshine  gilded  all  the  earth  : 

But  it  seemed  to  me  like  the  yawning  tomb 

That  mercilessly  swept  from  my  yearning  gaze 

The  cherished  friend  of  other  days  ; 

And  I  said,  "  O  glad  earth  and  radiant  sky  ! 

O  summer  winds,  that  sweep 

Through  waving  trees  and  forests  old, 

Rippling  the  lakelets  deep  ! 

O  blossoming  flowers  in  odorous  vales, 

And  sunshine  that  leaves  a  brightening  trail, 


p;-;.i  <JE.  49 

And  bird  that  sings  and  circles  high, 

And  sparkling  river  that  rushes  by  ! 

In  your  influence  sweet  is  there  no  balm, 

In  your  sacred  whispers  no  sacred  calm, 

My  spirit's  fierce  fear  to  softly  quench, 

And  bid  me  look  upward,  from  ever  whence 

There  cometh  a  light, 

Born  not  of  day,  nor  yet  of  night  ?  " 

And  answer  came  to  my  longing  soul, 

So  faint  at- first  I  listed  not ; 

But  truly  and  gradually  around  me  stole 

A  light  from  heaven,  or  I  never  knew  what : 

It  might  have  been  a  loved  one  hovering  nigh, 

Or  the  glory  and  sheen  of  the  upper  sky  ; 

But  before  my  vision  a  form  appeared, 

All  draped  in  robes  that  shone 

With  radiant  splendor,  and  girt  about 

With  such  beauty  as  mortals  had  never  known : 

It  was  white-winged  Peace,  and  her  whispers  roll 

With  power  and  might  into  my  soul. 


60  MEDITATION. 


MEDITATION. 

OVER  heart  and  over  brain  how  Memory  holds  her 

sway, 
While  through  night's  solemn  stillness   no  sound 

doth  come ! 

Heavy  silence  broods  o'er  mountain,  hill,  and  plain  : 
The  breeze  has  ceased  its  murmuring  through  the 
leafy  dome. 

O  friends  of  my  youth !  O  friends  of  my  later  years  ! 

Do  you  walk  the  upper  plains  in  the  light  of  God's 

love, 
Clad  in  robes  of  immortality,  so  spotless  and  so  pure, 

Fit  companions  for  the  angels  above  ? 

When  my  yearning  heart  fain  would  rend  the  veil 

that  hides 
From  my  mortal  vision  the  immortal  gates  of  light, 


MEDITATION.  51 

I  feel  the  touch  of  unseen  hands  reaching  far,  far 

down, 

And  hear  the  rush  of  angel-pinions  as  they  take 
their  flight. 

Perchance  each  strain  of  music,  as  it  swells  on  yon 
der  shore 

And  echoes  far  down  the  heavenly  plains, 
Is  caught  up  on  earth,  and  our  fainting  hearts 

Are  cheered  and  soothed  by  the  angelic  strains. 

Sometimes,  when  the  din  and  battle  of  life 
"Wax  strong,  and  my  dull,  sluggish  soul 

Is  enveloped  in  the  darkness  and  blackness  of  night, 
And  life's  waters  roll  high,  and  its  billows  are  cold, 

Soft  on  my  dulled  ear  steals  a  heavenly  strain ; 

Before  my  dimmed  eye  shines  a  vision  of  light ; 
Floats- the  sweet  music  from  the  upper  plains 

As  it  comes  to  me  through  the  lonesome  night. 

Friends  of  my  youth,  I  know  that  for  me 
You  wait  just  inside  the  portals  of  day; 

And  the  love  that  was  ours  when  you  lingered  here 
Will  only  be  perfect  in  heaven  away. 


52  MY  MOTHER'S  GRAVE. 


MY  MOTHER'S   GRAVE. 

SOFTLY  the  summer-winds  sigh  o'er  it 
Throughout  the  long,  still  summer-hours  ; 
The  tall  grass  waves  above  with  pleasant  sound ; 
While  purple  daisies  rear  their  modest  flowers 
Beside  the  gleaming,  broken  shaft  that  ever 
Upward  points  where  the  rifting  clouds 
Float  lightly,  and  melt  away 
Into  a  world  of  mist  beyond  the  sunny  hills. 
A  fair  white  rose,  fit  emblem  of  the  soul 
That  only  paused  on  the  dull  earth 
To  plume  its  wings,  and  take  its  flight 
To  eternity's  fair  and  boundless  shores, 
Sheds  an  odorous  fragrance  round  the  sacred  spot, 
Where,  in  -unbroken  rest,  she  sleeps. 
Long  rifts  of  golden  sunshine  creep 
Through  the  dense  and  shadowy  foliage. 
No  sound  breaks  the  solemn  stillness  save  the  robin's 
song, 


MY  MOTHER'S  GRAVE.  53 

That  rises  sweet  and  clear  upon  the  air ; 

Or  the  low,  faint  murmur  of  the  rippling  stream, 

That  ever  ceaseless  music  makes,  and  onward  flows 

Across  the  forest-paths,  down  through  fragrant  vales, 

With  soft  lulling  sound,  never  pausing 

Till  its  waters  reach  and  mingle  with  the  lake 

That  seems  to  slumber  in  the  dim  valley, 

All  shadowed  by  gigantic  forest-trees. 

And  seasons  roll  their  round.     Cold  winter's  blast 

Sweeps  by,  and  storm  and  tempest  beat  above  the 

lowly  mound. 

Yet  she  seems  not  dead  to  me  : 
I  hear  her  voice  upon  the  summer-wind, 
Her  light  step  upon  the  rustling  grass, 
And  see  her  smile  upon  the  face  of  Nature  ; 
And  I  know  she  walks  the  upper  fields, 
While  that  patient  look  she  wore  when  here 
Has  radiant  grown  at  the  glory  that  surrounds  her. 


54  TO-MORROW. 


TO-MORROW. 

WE  are  waiting,  ever  waiting, 

For  the  morrow's  dawn  : 

Pause  we  in  the  mystic  gloaming 

Ere  the  evening  light  has  gone  ; 

And  we  say,  "  To-morrow's  sunshine 

Will  be  fairer  than  to-day's  ;  " 

That  to-morrow's  bloom  be  brighter 

When  the  hours  have  flown  away. 

And  so  slowly  pass  the  moments  ! 

Will  the  morrow  never  come  ? 

While  through  our  grasp  are  slipping 

The-  golden  moments  one  by  one. 

Yet  we  fail  to  see  their  fleeing, 

Their  silent  flitting  on  ; 

And  we  say,  "  To-morrow  will  we  gather 

Richer,  brighter  gems ; 

Cull  from  thoughtless  pleasure 

All  the  glamour  that  it  lends ; 


TIIK  AURORA    BOR KALIS.  55 

Never  pausing  in  our  watching 

Till  we  reach  the  weary  end." 

Then  we  say  the  morrow's  dawning 

Never  more  can  come  : 

Then  tire  grave  is  wildly  yawning ; 

And,  ere  the  day  be  done, 

We  shall  be  beyond  all  grieving, 

In  our  Father's  home. 


THE   AURORA   BOREALIS. 

SEE  !  —  on  yonder  sky  what  pale,  mysterious  light 
Is  that,  which,  upward  shooting,  unveils  the  night, 
Whose  radial  mellow  hues  the  horizon  spans, 
From    whence  spring   glittering   crescent   and   deep 

auroral  jets, 

Wearing  prismatic  crown,  whose  swift-darting  rays 
Ever  silent  tend,  where,  on  meridian  heights, 
Proud  Venus  twinkling  shines  with  lesser  glory, 
Paling  the  tiny  stars  that  form  her  train ; 
While  warlike  Mars  contends  with  all  his  strength 
To  shine  undimmed,  until  at  length 


56  THE  AURORA    DORKALIS. 

A  soft  glamour  his  lustrous  brow  o'erspread.s  ? 

He,  too,  succumbs  to  the  strange  power. 

Now,  denned  'gainst  the  horizon  low,  there  gleams 

A  blood-red  cross,  surmounted  by  an  anchor 

Of  pale  amber  hues,  from  whence  leap  up  long  belts 

Of  yellow  flame,  darting  hither  and  thither, 

Seeming  in  angry  mood,  that  unquenched  remains 

Until  to  them  shall  be  vouchsafed  the  power  to  soar 

Onward  into  magnetic  depths  beyond  their  brilliant 

sisters, 

Each  wayward  one  vestment  borrowing  from 
The  inexhaustless  source  that  upward  streams 
From  globe  terrestrial :  while  there  rises 
On  the  dazzled  vision  a  mellowed  blaze,  comet-like 
In  fashion,   far   outward   sweeping,  quivering,    per 
turbed,  and  restless ; 

Semblance  bearing  to  the  meteor  that  its  brilliance 
Flashes  o'er  the  trembling  world  for  one  brief  moment, 
And  then  retires  to  unknown  realms 
Beyond  thought's  penetration.     So   this   mysterious 

form 

Changes,  amid  the  coruscating  lights, 
Into  shapes  undefined  and  luminous. 
And  mark  how  yon  dim-hued  shadows  melt 


THE  AURORA   BOREALIti.  57 

Beneath  the  electric  glow  that  is  engendered 
Within  the  sacred  bosom   of  our   common   mother- 
earth, 

From  which  outleaps  an  element  mysterious, 
Impalpable,  and  thin,  gilding  like 
Ghostly  visitant  upward  through  the  air, 
In  contact  coming  with  a  kindred  current, 
Soaring  where  the  pale  stars  keep  watch 
In  never-sleeping  silence  ;  and  the  very  rocks, 
Whose  adamantine  hardness  pierces  the 
Crustaceous  mould,  that  is  into  fragments 
Shivered  by  one  electric  blast, 

Assume  a  shadowy  grace  in  keeping  with  the  scene. 
Whence  come  ye,  O  pale,  mysterious  lights  ? 
Why  choose  these  solemn,  witching  hours, 
When  all  the  world,  in  slumber  buried, 
Waketh  not,  your  glitter  to  behold  ? 
On  glacial  regions,  girt  by  eternal  snows, 
Gleam  thy  magnetic  fires  with  gentler  radiance ; 
While  the  poor  mariner,  wedged  'mong  massive 
Minarets  and  towers  of  ice, 
On  thee  gazes,  thinking  of  that  distant  land 
Which  nevermore  his  weary  feet  may  press  ; 
Sees,  in  that  vision,  eyes  that  have  grown  dim 


58  THE  AURORA  BOREALIS. 

With  watching  for  the  unreturning  wanderer. 
Science  determines  not  the  source  from  whence   ye 

sprang  : 

Philosopher  and  hoary  sage  have  bowed 
The  head  in  reverent  wonder  as  o'er  the  world 
Thou  didst  hang  thy  glittering  coronet, 
Leaving  the  impress  of  thy  majesty 
On  all  the  land  and  mighty  heaving  sea, 
While  waiting  for  the  hand  of  God 
To  draw  aside  the  veil  with  which  his  wisdom 
Shrouds  the  unopened  labyrinths 
That  upward  lead  to  gates  of  light. 
So  rest  content,  poor  soul !  for  even  now 
Time  in  its  swift  flight  comes  bearing  on  its  wing 
A  recompense  for  all  thy  longings  ; 
For  in  the  distance  hovers  a  phantom 
Dread  and  grim,  who,  unrelenting, 
Waits  for  thee.     But  shudder  not, 
Nor  grow  faint  and  cold  :  for  on  yon 
Deathless  shore  is  grouped 
In  countless  numbers  the  angelic  host ; 
And  they  shall  welcome  thy  dazed  soul 
Into  realms  of  eternal  light  and  truth. 


THOU  ART  NOT  HERE.  59 


THOU   ART   NOT   HERE. 

THOU  art  not  here  !  my  soul  is  filled  with  sadness ; 

Thou  art  not  here  ! 
Though  all  the  earth  is  decked  with  gladness, 

And  music  steals  upon  mine  ear, 
And  odors  faint  upon  my  sense, 

While  sunshine  flecks  the  mere 
With  shining  helts  that  glint  and  glow, 
While  the  wind  sweeps  by  in  murmurs  low. 

Thou  art  not  here  !     Alone  I  wander 

Through  fragrant  summer-wood, 
Heeding  not  its  bloom  ;  while  I  silent  ponder 

In  melancholy  mood 
O'er  the  happy  hours,  the  olden  day, 

When  our  willing  footsteps  lightly  strayed 

Down  in  the  meadow,  through  the  sunny  glade, 


60  THOU  ART  NOT  HERE. 

Unmarking  the  moments  flitting  by, 

Listening  only  to  the  murmuring  sigh 

Of  the  faint,  sweet  sounds  of  earth  and  sky. 

And  I  turn  my  gaze  to  the  fleecy  rift 

That  rests  on  the  mountain's  brow, 
Or  lightly  float  down  to  the  low  cliff 

Where  the  mists  are  rising  now : 
And  a  purple  hue  and  shining  light 
Enshroud  the  valleys ;  while  in  misty  white 
Sleep  the  peaks  beneath  eternal  snow, 
Which  no  sunbeam  can  melt  in  its  fervid  glow. 

And  I  call  to  the  breeze,  which  answers  me  not ; 

I  call  to  the  rushing  river  ; 
I  whisper  thy  name  to  the  forget-me-not 

That  blossoms  on  the   banks  where  the  willows 

quiver ; 

And  I  say  to  the  sunbeam,  "  Why  shine  to-day, 
When  one  I  love  is  so  far  away  ?  " 

Unheeding  me,  the  wandering  breeze 

Sighs  in  plaintive  tones  'rnong  the  forest-trees  ; 


WAITING.  61 

And  the  swift-rushing  river  pauses  no  more, 

But  my  questioning  drowns  in  sullen  roar, 

While  its  silver  waves  lash  the  willow-lined  shore. 

And  the  sunbeam's  glint  and  yellow  glow 

Wear  a  ghastly  aspect ;  but  soft  and  low 

I  hear  in  the  distance  a  voice,  whose  tone 

Chants  this  strain  to  me :  "  Thou  art  coming  home." 


WAITING. 

HOPEFULLY  waiting  by  the  sea 

For  a  ship  that  may  never  come  to  me ; 

Hopefully  waiting  in  the  dawn, 

Catching  a  gleam  of  sun  upon 

My  ship  that  sails  like  the  morning  star, 

While  the  glimmering  moon  follows  afar. 

Hopefully  I  wait :  the  silver  'tide 
Creeps  at  my  feet ;  while  far  and  wide, 
All  over  the  lichens,  all  over  the  wold, 
The  sunshine  sleeps  in  mystic  fold  ; 
And  I  stoop  to  gather  the  pale  sea-flower 
That  softly  shines  this  silent  hour. 


62  WAITING. 

Yet  the  sea  rolls  by ;  it  rolls  away. 
O  sea  !  hast  thou  seen  my  ship  so  gay  ? 
It  hath  snowy  sails,  like  a  snow-white  dove 
That  flitteth  down  from  the  heavens  above. 

The  morn  shone  fair  when  my  ship  sailed  away ; 
The  breeze  swept  light  o'er  the  placid  bay. 
My  ship  was  bound  for  a  summer-land  ; 
And  I  hopefully  wait  on  this  ancient  strand 
To  behold  its  white  sails  in  the  distance  afar 
Breasting  the  wave  like  the  morning  star. 

Oh  !  angry  and  black  now  the  clouds  arise, 
Infolding  the  sapphire  of  sunny  skies ; 
Tempestuous  winds  begin  to  beat ; 
Swift  the  tide  rolls  at  my  feet ; 
Dread  thunders  break ;  the  swelling  sea 
Dashes  wildly  up  on  the  sandy  lea. 

There  are  breakers  ahead  !     O  ship  !  sail  now, 
While  wild  beat  the  billows  around  thy  prow  ; 
O  ship  !  sail  far,  where  the  waters  lie 
Placid  and  deep  as  you  drift  by. 


WAITING.  63 

My  ship  hath  gone  down  'neath  the  ocean's  surge ; 
Loud  moan  the  winds  a  solemn  dirge  : 
Sadly  I  wait  on  the  lonesome  shore,  — 
Wait  for  the  ship  that  can  come  no  more. 

Its  wreck  I  gather  from  the  cold,  gray  stones : 
Dank  weeds  cling  around  ;  a  whirlpool  foams ; 
The  boiling  currents  madly  hiss  now, 
Dashing  the  spray  around  my  brow. 

Night  closed  around  ;  dread  darkness  fell ; 

The  winds  shrieked  aloud  like  a  sudden  knell ; 

In  inky  blackness,  as  one  vast  plain, 

The  sea  reposed  ;  and  the  desolate  main 

Repeated  its  echoes  in  sad  refrain, 

Till  the  hills  took  up  the  plaintive  strain. 


64  ADDRESSED   TO  DEITY. 


ADDRESSED   TO   DEITY. 

FATHER,  how  grand  thy  works !     The  glorious  sun 
Floods   all   thy   vast    domains.  *  The    earth,   which 

smileth 
Up  to  thee,  clothed  with  all  that's  bright  and  good 

and  fair,  — 

No  blot  rests  on  her  face.  The  tiniest  blade  of  grass, 
The  humblest  flower  that  upward  springs,  bears  token 
Of  thy  wondrous  power ;  while  each  into  such  grace 
Is  fashioned,  that  I  pause,  lost  in  thought's  mysterious 
Labyrinths,  which  comprehend  not  Nature's  secret 

workings. 
From  her  broad  bosom   a-  thousand   fragrant  odors 

rise, 

And  incense  sweet  from  all  her  lilies  pale  ; 

. 
Her  blushing  roses,  too,  exhale  perfumes 

Faint  and  delicious,  borne  to  me  on  balmy  winds. 
Seek  yon  mountain-heights,  and  behold  what  she  has 
wrought ! 


ADf)/?KSSKD    TO  DEITY.  65 

Upon  each  uplifted  brow  a  record  stands  of  a1!  the 
circling  acres. 

o       o 

Some,  tempest-rent  and  hoaiy,  repose  like  warrior 
Smitten  by  the  battle  into  unwaking  slumber ; 
And  some  are  crowned  with  everlasting  snows, 
Upon  which  the  sunlight  rests,  but  softens  never : 
And  yet  a  rosy  glow  oft  infolds  them,  and  purple 

mists ; 
While  a  fleecy  cloud  floats  far  above  like  some  sweet 

angel 
In  its  flight  to  heavenly  shores.     And  some  she  with 

unwearied  hand 
Scooped   out    into    colossal    basin,   where,    drop   by 

1  drop, 
The  soft  spring-rains  fall,  and  melted  snows  ;  until  at 

length 

There  stretched  out  a  broad,  blue  lake,  placid 
Beneath  the  sky,  at  which  there  sippeth  clouds, 
And  where  the  sun  and  moonbeams  play ;  and  so 

near  the  stars,  that  at  night 

They  oft  peep  into  its  shadowy  depths  their  glitter 
ing  forms 

In  proud  array  defined  against  the  sky,  and  too  de 
fined 

5 


CG  Al>h!!EX*F.lt    JO  DEITY. 

Upon   its   own   unrippled   bosom.     On   sandy   plain 

remote,  one 
Awful   peak   uprises ;    and   from   its   hollow  depths 

come  sounds 
As  if  ten  thousand  cannons  had  belched  forth  terrific 

fires,  and 
Ten  thousand  groans  issued  from  ten  thousand  hearts 

in  agony  ; 

And   down  its  heated  sides  there  rolls  in  one  con 
tinuous  mass 

Molten  lava,  which  the  sickened  earth  ejects. 
In  cavern  too,  unlit  by  sun,  her  curious   hand   has 

wrought  such 
Curious  veil  wherewith  to  hide  her  mysteries  !     Some 

she  hedges  in 
"With  marble  walls,  and  paves  the  pathway  to  boiling 

caldron 
With  soft,  calcareous  earth,  and  illumines  her  vast 

domes 
With  pendants  white  and  glittering  ;  while  uprise  in 

gloomy 
Labyrinths  statues  weird,  all  girt  about  with  strange 

device,  — 
Monks  in  ashen  cowl  and  flowing  gown  kneel  at  the 

altar, 


ADDRESSED    TO   DEITY.  G7 

And  nuns  in  faded  garments  too,  with  rosary  and 

beads 

Counted  never,  yet  looking  as  if  death  had  overtaken 
Them  there,  and  chilled  them  into  this  great  repose. 
When  we  with  sacrilegious  foot  would  penetrate  her 

inner  sanctuary, 
She   unfolds   her  attendant   ranks   arrayed   in   rigid 

silence 
To  our  gaze,  so  life-like,  yet  so  pale,  that  one  might 

think 

That  yestereve  they  walked  and  skipped  about, 
And  shouted  to  each  other,  making  the  caverns  dim 
Resound  with  their  wild  melodies ;  while  from  each 

shining  pendant 
There  falls  a  drop,  which,  perchance,  is  a  tear  shed 

by  Mother  Nature 

For  all  her  children  who  in  secret  weep. 
Only  the  inconstant  wind  is  a  witness  to  her  sighs, 

as  it 

Invades  her  realms. 
O  Father,  how  grand  thy  works  !  —  the  majestic  sea, 

that 

Sweeps  in  one  broad  belt  from  tropic  shores  crowned  by 
Summer  suns  and  verdurous  blooms,  far  out  to  frozen 

region 


G8  ADDRESSED   TO  DEITY. 

Girt  by  eternal  snows,  while  its  waves  surge  on  past 

icy  domes 
And  gleaming  towers  cold  with  the  awful  breath  of 

a  sunless  winter, 
But  which  sails  by  like  a  mighty  moving  palace  in 

armament 
Of  glittering  spears,  yet  unlike.     For  never  a  light 

shines 
On  moat  or  glacial  battlement,  each  sentinel  keeping 

watch 

With  hoary  head,  and  eyelids  fringed  with  frost-work, 
Moveless  and  grim ;  nor  sound  of  voice  falls  on  the 

ear : 

Only  with  awful  crash  the  icy  bodies  meet  like  ships  in 
Battle,  each  concussion  reverberating  sounds  through 
out 
Region  lone,  as  if  worlds  had  tumbled  into  chaotic 

mass  together, 
Deepening  as  it  rolls  away ;  while  to  its  echoes  the 

affrighted  polar  bear 
Gives  answer  back,  deeming  it  the  distressful  cry  of 

mate 
Upon  a  distant  mountain.     Ah  !  what  is  man,  that  he 

should  cavil 


SVKn    7O  DEITY  69 

In  his  feeble  power,  and  strive  to  rear  his  palace  on 
the  plains, 

Or  gather  from  the  bosom  of  thy  vast  earth  her  treas 
ures, 

Or  bestride  the  mighty  sea  with  mighty  ships  and 

Lesser  craft  ?  To-day  his  purple  garments  wrap  him 
round : 

Perchance  they  drip  with  blood  wrung  from  widow's 
heart  • 

And  orphan's  too.  What  matters  it  their  royal  tex 
ture  speaks  of 

Royal  wealth,  and  all  behold  it?  Ere  the  morrow's 
sun  shall 

Go  down,  his  costly  trapping  laid  aside,  a  shroud 
inwraps  him, 

And  a  sable  pall :  while  among  the  heavenly  hosts 
there  rises  not 

A  song  of  welcome ;  but  a  wail  is  heard  in  other 
realms,  where  dwell 

The  lost  in  everlasting  darkness.  Oh !  why  not  seek 
to  wrap  the  soul 

Around  with  those  sinless  robes  donated  by  a  sinless 
Christ? 

Why  cry  against  the  fallen,  ".Unclean,  unclean !  " 


70  ADDREWKD    TO   DEITY, 

When  the  chamber  that  inshrines   our  souls  is  foul 

•  with  malice, 
And  rank,  evil  thoughts,  engendered  by  deceit  and 

deadly  envy,  which. 

Spitteth  forth  its  venom  till  all  the  air  around  is  laden 
With  loathsome  fungus  taking  root  in  other  minds 

like  rank  weeds 

In  some  fair  garden,  blighting  all  the  flowers  ?     It 
Chaseth  out  sweet  Charity,  until  that  angel  takes  her 

flight  forever  : 
Then  we  turn  back  aghast,  veil  our  eyes,  and  rend 

our  hearts 
With  continuous  cry  for  her  return.     Father,   thus 

thy  world  moves  on. 
But  from  Western  wilds,  from  desert  plains,  and  from 

many  a  fair  green  field, 
From  cities  vast,  is  heard  humanity's  feeble  wail,  as 

its  millions  toil  in  gloom, 
In  sorrow  toil,  with  grovelling  souls  that  behold  not 

thee  on  shining  heights, 

O  O  ' 

But,  untiring,  seek  amid  the  world's  rush  and  din  to 

find  the  jewel  thou 
Holdest  in  thy  grasp.     Some  souls  look  up  as  they 

pass  the  boundary-line 


A   L.l.MKXT.  71 

That  divides  life  and  death,  and,  with  cold,  stiffening 

lips,  seek 
To  relate  the  glorious  vision.     But  to  the  faithful  at 

last  shall 

Come  joy,  peace,  and  rest. 

So  be  brave,  poor  heart !  nor  cast  a  backward  glance, 
Bat  far  upward  raise  thy  vision  to  that 
Land  beyond  the  parting  clouds  that  do  but  veil  its 
Brightness. 


A   LAMENT. 

MORN  breaks  o'er  the  world  how  fair  and  sweet ! 

While,  from  the  east  uprising, 
The  golden  sun  announces  day, 

The  tiny  birds  surprising 
That  were  asleep  'mong  the  forest-trees 
In  nests  all  curtained  by  emerald  leaves. 

The  hills  wear  a  crown  of  sapphire  mist ; 

And  the  mountains  grand  and  old 
Above  them  hang,  each  brow  inhvincd 

With  purple  clouds  and  gold  : 
From  the  ancient  plains  that  shvlrli  away 
The  shadows  glide-,  so  dull  and  grav. 


72  A    LAMENT. 

The  dew-drops  glitter  on  the  grassy  blades 
In  the  heart  of  the  opening  flowers ; 

The  breeze  steals  up  from  the  mossy  glades 
Through  all  the  still,  bright  hours, 

Wafting  to  me  a  fragrance  sweet 

From  the  budding  blue-bells  that  ope  to  meet 

The  sun's  bright  glow,  while  it  lightly  unfolds 

The  poppies  in  their  sleep. 

But  the  earth  that  smiles,  the  flowers  that  bloom, 

And  the  softly  murmuring  breeze, 
And  the  hills  that  sleep  in  sapphire  mists, 

And  "birds  that  pipe  in  ancient  trees, 
Bring  no  joy  to  my  heart,  no  joy  to  my  life  ; 
No  sunshine's  gold  can  gild  its  strife. 
Cold,  cold,  its  beams  fall  on  my  soul ; 
Cold,  cold,  the  glancing  rivers  roll 
Sounds  in  mine  ear ;  the  wild  bird's  song 
A  requiem  is  ;  while  memories  throng 
Of  olden  days,  and  my  buried  dead, 
Who  silently  come,  and  on  my  head 
Place  a  spectral  hand,  then  vanish  away 
Like  shadows  dim  from  the  light  of  day. 


A    LA. VI-: XT.  73 

No  more  shall  I  pause  by  the  restless  sea, 

And  list  to  its  wail  and  moan  ; 
No  more  shall  I  wander  o'er  the  sandy  lea 

That  girt  my  childhood  home, 
Or  gather  from  its  rocks  the  lichens  gray, 
Or  breathe  the  fragrance^  of  its  new-mown  hay, 
Or  gather  the  rosebud  from  its  shining  tree, 

Or  pluck  the  lily's  waxen  bells, 
Or  chase  the  butterfly  over  the  lea 

And  down  through  the  woody  dells, 
Or  gather  the  sea-weed  when  the  tide  rolls  out, 
Or  the  ocean  shells  from  the  sands  about. 

Here  the  tempest  may  beat,  or  the  sun  may  shine, 
The  flowers  may  wither,  or  the  flowers  may  bloom, 

The  birds  may  pipe  'mong  the  ancient  trees, 
And  the  mountains  uprise  in  light  or  gloom. 

Oh  !  my  love  lies  dead  by  the  sounding  sea  ; 

While  the  waves  creep  up  o'er  the  sandy  lea, 

And  wildly  beat,  and  foam  at  his  feet, 

Shrouding  his  grave  like  a  winding-sheet. 

Once  I  paused  by  the  ancient  sea : 
The  red  moon  hung  on  high  ; 


74  A   LAMENT. 

A  blazing  star  shone  red  on  me 

From  out  the  midnight  sky ; 
The  sluggish  tide  it  crept  like  blood 

Beating  in  wild  monotones, 
"Whelming  beneath  its  sickening  flood 

The  lichens  that  clung  to  the  gray  stones. 
How  it  curled  at  my  feet, 
And  restlessly  beat ! 
Now  whirling  back  in  mad  retreat, 

Then  leaping  and  creeping, 

Then  wailing  and  weeping 

Unto  the  moon,  red  vigils  keeping 
Unto  the  stars  in  the  amber  sky, 

Unto  the  sea  in  weird  tones  repeating 
The  echoes  that  woke  on  the  hills  anigh. 

Wearied  I  sank  upon  the  fallow  lea, 
And  thus  addressed  the  lamenting  sea  :  — 
"  O  sea  !  were  yon  moon  a  globe  of  blood 

Hung  up  in  yonder  sky, 
And  I  could  cast  it  in  thy  flood, 

And  all  the  stars  anigh, 
O  restless  sea  !  O  moaning  sea  ! 
What  wouldst  thou  then  restore  to  me?" 


A   LAMENT.  75 

But  unanswering  whirled  its  mocking  tide 
All  over  the  sea-walls  far  and  wide. 
Then  a  song  I  sang  to  the  sounding  sea, 
Weary  reclining  on  the  fallow  lea, 
While  the  moon  shone  red  on  the  gory  stones, 
And  the  waves  beat  up  in  wild  monotones, 
And  long  arms  flung  like  blood-red  bands 
Around  and  across  the  yellow  sands. 

I  sang,  "  O  sea !  under  thy  fretful  tides 

One  lieth  asleep, 
With  the  gold  o'  noon  in  her  silken  hair ; 

And  unto  her  frozen  feet 
The  garnered  wealth  of  many  years 

Is  piled  in  glittering  heap  ; 
And  a  coral  palace  stretcheth  wide, 

And  coral  caverns  deep. 

"  O  cruel  sea,  O  lamenting  sea, 
Winding  past  the  fallow  lea  ! 
Thy  crested  billows'  swell 
Soundeth  like  a  funeral-knell ; 
And  thy  pink  and  tiny  shells 


76  A  LAMENT. 

Seem  like  drops  of  blood 
Under  the  blood-red  moon, 

Hurled  by  thy  boiling  flood 
Up  from  her  soundless  tomb." 

But  the  sea,  that  answered  me  not, 

Whirled  lamenting  by  ; 
"While  the  stars  grew  pale  and  soft 

Up  in  the  amber  sky  ; 
And  the  moon's  red  light 

Resolved  to  paly  gold 
Its  electric  flood  ;  the  waning  night 

Drew  round  in  glittering  fold  ; 
While  the  fretful  tide  o'er  the  yellow  sands, 
Gleaming,  shot  like  silver  bands. 

And  voices  chanted  on  the  purple  hills ; 

The  voice  of  bird  and  bee 
Mingled  with  the  wind's  low  trills 

Unto  the  remorseless  sea  ; 
Across  the  sky  a  gold  banner  hung, 

Parted  by  crimson  bands  ; 
And  sheets  of  flame  far  upward  flung, 

Upheld  by  unseen  hands. 


A   LAMENT.  77 

While  methought  from  the  glory  there  sprung, 

Far  down  to  the  ocean  sands, 
A  presence  so  sweet,  that  the  tide  at  my  feet 

Drew  back  in  pale  affright : 
All  the  sounding  sea,  all  the  fallow  lea, 

Quick  caught  its  holy  light. 

And  the  ocean  that  rolled  o'er  curls  o'  gold, 

O'er  a  form  o'  grace  asleep, 
And  the  waves  that  coil  in  icy  fold 

Unto  her  frozen  feet, 
Enchain  not  her  soul,  now  on  other  shore, 

Walking  the  pearly  street, 
With  a  dazzled  vision  that  discerns  evermore 

The  glory  at  her  feet. 

And  up  I  rose  from  the  fallow  lea, 
Singing  no  more  to  the  petulant  sea 
That  defiantly  moaned  back  to  me, 
But  gazed  afar,  where  the  rising  sun 
Proclaimed  to  me  a  day  begun, 
And  all  the  sea  it  shone  upon ; 
While  green  rolled  its  waves  over  the  stones, 
Benting  about  in  low  monotones. 


78  TO   LITTLE  LID  A. 


TO   LITTLE   LIDA. 

O  LITTLE  hands  forever  folded  ! 

O  little  feet  at  rest ! 
O  soft  blue  eyes  that  ope  not ! 

O  brow  I  oft  have  pressed ! 

O  glossy,  silken  tresses 
Lying  beneath  the  mould, 

Under  the  ferns  and  grasses, 
Under  the  daisy's  gold ! 

How  much  of  sin  and  sorrow, 
How  much  of  pain  or  bliss, 

How  many  a  sad  to-morrow, 
Thy  baby  heart  has  missed  ! 

O  voice  whose  plaintive  music 
Is  hushed  forevermore ! 

O  parted  lips,  and  pallid ! 
My  heart  is  grievdd  sore 


TO  LITTLE  LI  DA.  79 

That  all  the  blight  and  mildew 

Of  death  hath  folded  round  ; 
That  all  thy  grace  and  comeliness 

Is  mouldering  in  the  ground. 

But  up  among  the  angels 

Thy  spirit  wanders  free 
'Mid  the  golden  streets,  the  jasper, 

And  by  the  silver  sea. 

Thy  snowy  raiment  floateth 

Like  a  blaze  of  glory  down; 
On  thine  angel  brow  there  resteth 

A  radiant  golden  crown. 

O  hearts  on  earth  that  mourneth  ! 

Look  up  to  worlds  of  light 
Where  angel  Lida  dwelleth, 

Hid  from  your  yearning  sight. 


80  A  DREAM. 


A    DREAM. 

DREAD  darkness  fell  upon  my  senses,  and  my 

Inward  vision  wandered  far  out  to  unknown  realms. 

Before  me  stretched  a  plain  of  inky  blackness, 

Where  no  flower  blossomed,  no  dews  fell ; 

But  swept  by  one  continuous  "wind,  whose 

Clammy  breath  ever  bore  the  slimy  essence 

That  may  come  forth  from  charnel-house, 

Or  yawning  grave  where  human  bones 

Lie  rotting.     Through  all  the  plains  there  rolled 

A  sluggish  stream,  whose  waves  slow  hissed, 

And  bubbled  up  o'er  rocks  that  lay  like 

Mountains  in  their  midst ;  and  lakes  like 

Cesspools  lay,  deep  and  black,  which  the 

Clammy  winds  disturbed  not ; 

"Whose  banks  shot  up  devoid  of  living  thing, 

Of  shrub  or  tree  devoid,  and  far  out 

Into  blank  space  retiring.     Trembling  I  stood  ; 

For  dreadful  thunders  rolled,  shaking  the 


A   DREAM.  81 

Vast  plain  on  its  foundations.     Great  chasms 
Opened  wide  their  jaws ;  flames  leaped  up, 
As  if  the  fire's  of  hell  had  burst  their 
Confines  ;  and  the  very  smoke  into  forms 
Resolved,  and  shapes  strange  and  hideous, 
That  mocked  me  with  their  fiery  eye, 
And  strove  with  fiery  feet  to  climb 
The  leaping  flames.     Now  the  river  rose 
To  beat  it  down,  and  flung  its  sluggish 
Tides  amid  the  raging  heats  that  higher, 
Higher  rose,  and  shrieked  and  raved, 
Drowning  the  reverberating  thunder's  voice. 
A  lake,  that  heretofore  had  stood  still, 
Arose,  and  its  slimy  contents  poured 
O'er  all  the  raging  flames,  until  the  fiery, 
Horrid  shapes  shot  out  in  frenzied  madness  ; 
And  the  fire-tongued  monsters  wild  beat  it 
Down.     Each  in  awful  merriment  held  up 
A  flaming  hand,  as  from  the  emptied 
Lake  there  issued  groans  and  shrieks  of 
Horrid  laughter.     A  bell  began  to  toll : 
A  thousand  brazen  bells  ne'er  clanged  so 
Loud,  so  slow,  so  deep.     One  tone  I  heard : 
It  might  have  been  oceans  raging  in 


82  A  DREAM. 

Their  maddest  fur}7",  or  worlds  crushed  out, 
Or  meteors  whirling  by.     Another  tone  :  it 
Might  have  been  the  groan  of  ten  • 
Thousand  damned  souls  mingled  into 
One.     But  deeper  still  upon  mine  ear 
Did  fall  another,  mournful  at  first,  then 
Breaking  into  a  wail,  as  if  God's  judgment- 
Day  had  come  ;  and  from  out  the 
Sea  the  risen  dead  called  unto  the  mountains 
And  unto  the  unrelenting  rocks  to  hide 
Them  from  his  wrath.     Then  louder  pealed 
Its  brazen  tongue  o'er  all  the  plain ;  the  fiery 
Monsters  hid ;  the  leaping  flames  retired 
Aghast ;  the  shrinking  river  its  hiss 
And  bubble  ceased;  but  blew  the 
Slimy  winds  continuously  with  the  breath 
Of  charnel-house  and  open  grave. 
Heated  was  all  the  plain  ;  and,  lo  ! 
In  its  midst  a  mountain  towering  rose, 
Girdled  around  with  awful  grandeur. 
No  living  thing  was  seen ;  no  verdurous  robes 
Encrowned  its  sides  ;  no  tree  spread  its 
Branches  o'er  the  stones  ;  no  babbling 
Stream  flowed  downward  to  the  plains  : 


A   DREAM.  83 

But  blistered  lava-rocks  blistered  the 

Smoking  earth,  which,  in  return,  seemed 

The  slimy  air  to  blister ;  till  in  one 

Great  convulsion  all  the  chasms  closed, 

And  the  sluggish  river,  scorched  into 

Dryness,  sank  amid  the  sands.     Now  night 

Came  on ;  and  such  a  night !     Uprose  the 

Moon  like  one  red  globe  of  blood. 

The  stars  glittered  like  sharp  rays  of 

Steel,  and  seemed  to  dart  in  madness 

O'er  the  sky.     High  hung  a*  cloud  above 

The  massive  mount ;  until,  in  sudden  anger,  from 

Its  cracked  jaws  there  burst  huge  jets  of  flame, 

That  shot  forth  with  dreadful  hiss,  boiling 

And  sputtering  like  a  mighty  caldron 

Fed  by  the  very  fires  of  hell,  thundering 

Forth  with  one  continuous  sound,  drowning 

The  clamorous-pealing  bell ;  and  the  thick, 

Sulphurous  smoke  rolled,  and,  beaten 

By  the  slimy  winds,  hid  in 

Its  awful  folds  the  blood-red  moon : 

But  still  the  stars,  emitting  their  steely 

Fires,  glimmered  through  the  darkness. 

Nought  else  was  seen  save  the  lurid 


84  A   DREAM. 

Fires,  which  might  be  kindled 

Down  where  damned  spirits  hold 

Their  revels ;  and,  half  hid  by  coils 

Of  smoke,  looked  hellish. 

But  while  the  darkened  moon  struggbd  feebly  'mid 

The  fiery  flood  ;  while  volcanoes 

Burst,  drowning  the  thunder's  voice, 

Shaking  the  plains,  and  seemed 

To  throttle  all  the  staring  stars,  — 

I  trembling  stood,  striving  to 

Blind  my  vision  to  the  gaping  lava 

Sea,  and  shutting  from  my  senses 

All  this  warring  strife.     And,  lo  !  upon 

Mine  ear  there  stole  a  whisper ;  so 

Faint  at  first,  that  I  comprehended  not 

Its  import.     Then  it  grew  sweet  and 

Loud,  until  it  swelled  into  one  grand 

Anthem,  so  like  the  songs  chanted  by  the  angels 

On  the  blessed  hills,  and  which  reached 

Far  down,  and  broke 

Clear  and  sweet  above  the  plains 

Where  watched  the  shepherds.     My 

Inthralled  senses  stood  still.     The 

Moon  stood  still ;  all  her  fierce 


A    DREA^f.  85 


Red  beams  resolved  into  a  soft, 
Silver  radiance.     Sudden,  as  if  a 
Magic  wand  had  swept  the  plains, 
Trees  uprose,  and  budding  flowers  ; 
While  methought  I  caught  the  faintest 
Echoes  of  a  rippling  stream,  and  the 
Soft  dash  of  limpid  waves  against 
A  moss-lined  shore.     I  heard  the  wind 
Swell  plaintive  on  the  hills,  and 
Felt  its  balmy  breath  cooling  my 
Heated  brow  ;  while,  lo  !  upon 
My  entranced  vision  burst  a 
Reflex  of  such  glory,  —  only  the  reflex,  — 
That  all  my  soul  grew  dumb. 
Methought  'twas  morn.     The  risen 
Sun  stood  still,  draped  with  banners 
Wrought  with  gold,  and  canopied 
With  purple  mists  which 
Half  hid  its  wondrous  brightness  ; 
When  suddenly  there  burst  a  blaze 
Of  glory  from  its  midst.     The 
Parting  clouds  fled  on.     The  amazed 
Earth  quivered  with  delight.     The  King 
Of  kings  sat  on  his  throne  ;  and 


86  A   SOLILOQUY. 

By  bis  side  was  One  who  looked 
On  me  with  such  tender  grace, 
That  my  whole  soul  arose,  clad, 
Methought,  in  those  spotless  robes 
Washed  white  in  his  own  precious  blood. 


SOLILOQUY. 

WHO  says  life  "  is  a  fevered  dream  ; " 

The  world  a  dull  stage, 

Whereon  poor  actors  take  a  part, 

Fretting  their  souls  in  feeble  rage 

Till  Death  with  stony  grasp 

Fastens  them  unto  eternal  slumber, 

Wherein  no  dream  uncloses  the  frozen  lids, 

No  trembling  breath  awakes  the  sleeper, 

No  voice  of  love  calling  from  afar 

Can  break  upon  the  ear  ? 

Alas  !  who  knows  ?     The  spark 

That  fed  the  fires  of  immortality 

Which  so  feebly  glimmered  up  ainid 


A  SOLILOQUY.  87 

The  shadows  —  its  exit  from  this 

Cold  lump  of  clay  none  witnessed : 

Its  destination  —  where,  oh  !  where  ? 

In  what  mysterious  shape  it  took  its  flight  ? 

How  fled  ?     Did  other  spirits  bear  it 

Up  to  worlds  of  light  ?  or  did  it  sink 

In  everlasting  darkness  ? 

Here  lies  the  form  of  one  I  loved, 

So  changed,  cold,  and  mysterious  ! 

At  all  my  eager  questionings 

The  frozen  lips  unclose  not ; 

The  eye,  wont  to  smile  back  on  me, 

Answers  now  with  fixed,  unmeaning  stare ; 

The  fires"  lit  beneath  it  have  gone 

Out :  but  where,  oh  !  where, 

The  hand  that  idled  not  amid  the  day  ? 

It's  folded  o'er  the  frozen  heart.     Only 

The  silken  tresses  lie  unchanged. 

The  rose,  whose  fragrant  breath 

Might  wake  the  heaviest  slumberer, 

Lies  light  upon  the  brow, 

Whose  marble  fixedness  might 

Put  to  shame  the  fairest  image  e'er 

Called  into  being  by  the  hand  of  man. 


88  CAST  UP   BY   THE    WAVES. 

Cold,  cold,  unmeaning  silence, 
Whose  mysteries  I  cannot  penetrate, 
And  so  forbear.     Leaving  ye, 
I  go  back -to  life,  which  is  not  life 
Without  thee. 

Yet  one  blessed  thought  strikes  me,  — 
That,  when  this  frozen  mantle  falls  on 
Me,  thou  canst  not  weep 
As  I  am  weeping. 


CAST   UP   BY   THE   WAVES. 

DEAD  !     Upon  her  upturned  face 
The  pale  moonlight  lingered  ; 
Upon  her  unbound  hair,  whose 
Long,  dark  waves,  matted  with  dank 
Weeds  and  ocean-shreds,  clung  round 
The  marble  neck  and  brow  as 
It  tangled  lay 

Upon  the  rocks ;  while  ever  and  anon 
The  cruel  waves  crept  up,  and  stirred 
Its  silken  folds,  as  oft  upon  a  summer 
Day  it  stirs  a  rose-leaf. 


CAST  UP  BY  THE    WAVES.  89 

Swift  the  marshalling  clouds  swept 
O'er  the  sky  ;  swift  the  ocean-tides 
Rolled  on  ;  loud  and  deep,  in 
Clamorous  tones,  the  breakers  thundered 
O'er  the  rocks,  and,  like  a  deep  bassoon, 
Called  out  and  shrieked  and  raved, 
Till  on  the  angry  ocean's  lips  stood 
Great  flecks  of  foam,  which  lightly 
Danced  far  out  upon  the  shore  until 
They  bore  the  look  of  tiny  seas  afloat, 
Whose  framework  might  be  blood. 
Dead,  and  alone  !     The  winds 
Might  beat ;  the  angry  sea  cast 
Up  its  flecking  form  ;  the  moon 
Peer  down  upon  the  ghastly  scenes, 
And  shed  its  melancholy  flood 
Upon  the  marble  pallor  of  the 
Brow,  and  lips  just  parted  with 
A  smile ; 

Voices  from  over  the  sea  might 
Call,  and  that  great  sea  repeat  the 
Call  in  vain  :  for  in  such  dreamless 
Slumber  hath  it  wrapped  her  round, 
Though  it  shrieked  out  in  remorseful 


90  CAST   UP  BY  THE    WAVES. 

Cries  until  it  rent  the  very  skies, 

Yet  would  no  answer 

Come  from  the  pallid  lips  ; 

No  motion  as  if  the  pale  feet  might 

Seek  to  wander  by  the  shore. 

Cast  up  by  the  waves, 

And  lying  on  the  cold 

Gray  rocks,  with  rounded  limbs 

In  attitude  of  grace  composed ;  one 

Dimpled  arm  across  her  breast ;  and 

Yet  her  tiny  feet  are  folded 

With  that  awful  fixedness  which 

To  death  alone  belongs. 

O  cruel  sea  !  O  cruel  tide  !  ye  had 

No  mercy  on  the  fragile  child,  but  beat 

And  beat,  and  chilled  the  life-blood 

In  her  tender  veins  ; 

But  in  the  dreadful  night,  when, 

Above  the  blackness,  angels  watched 

For  her  pure  soul's  exit,  methinks 

They  bore  it  in  calmness  up  to  God. 


LINES  ON   THE  BIRTHDAY  OF  A   FRIEND.  91 


LINES  ON   THE   BIRTHDAY  OF  A   FRIEND. 

SOFTLY  the  sun  of  this  fair  morning 

Conies  up  from  the  ancient  hills  ; 
And  its  white  beams  lend  a  gentle  grace 

To  barren  plain  and  frozen  rills. 

In  the  distance  the  mountains  tower, 

Sublime,  mysterious,  and -old; 
While  light,  fleecy  clouds  are  floating  above, 

Mingled  with  purple  and  gold  ; 

And  the  cool  west-wind  is  murmuring 

An  anthem  low  and  sweet, 
All  idly  roving,  and  softly  lingering 

Where  plain  and  mountain  meet. 

My  friend,  I  pause,  on  this  fair  morning 

That  ushers  in  thy  natal  day, 
To  breathe  a  prayer  of  glad  thanksgiving 

To  my  Father  in  heaven  away,  — 


92          LINES  ON  THE  BIRTHDAY  OF  A   FRIEND. 

That  lie  in  his  goodness  hath  lent  thee 

To  grace  this  fair,  sweet  earth : 
My  heart  in  its  joy  reverently  wonders 

If  angels  rejoiced  at  its  birth. 

Noble  soul !  with  the  redeemed  may  you  stand, 

Crowned  with  everlasting  life, 
On  that  day  when  Death  claims  you  for  his  own, 

And  ends  all  mortal  strife  ! 

And  if,  in  the  dim,  uncertain  future, 

Your  faltering  feet  may  tread 
Life's  thorny  way  in  bitterness,  remember  our  Sa 
viour 

Had  not  where  to  lay  his  head. 

And  lift  your  eyes  beyond  the  hills, 
Where  the  golden  gates  of  morning 

For  your  entrance  will  be  opened  wide 
Into  life's  eternal  dawning. 


DA  Y.  93 


DAY. 

CREEPING  o'er  the  mountain 

With  all  her  rosy  train  ; 
Flushing  field  and  fountain ; 

Flooding  all  the  main 
With  purple  lights,  the  golden  ; 

Wreathing  a  glittering  chain 
Around  the  mountain  olden, 

Around  the  ancient  plain ; 

Brightening  all  the  river ; 

Changing  the  old  gray  stones 
Into  molten  silver, 

Gleaming  like  liquid  domes,  — 
Round  eternal  snows  a  mantle 

Of  luminous,  glowing  red 
She  inwrappeth,  soft  and  gentle 

As  roses  round  the  dead. 


94  DA  Y. 

The  clouds  up  in  the  heavens 

Might  be  the  gates  that  fold. 
And  shut  from  our  yearning  vision 

The  streets  of  pearly  gold ; 
So  strange  is  all  their  beauty, 

So  lustrous  and  so  bright : 
Oh  !  is  that  wondrous  city 

Hidden  from  mortal  sight  ? 

Oh  !  is  that  sea  that  shineth, 
Oh !  is  that  waveless  sea 

That  midst  the  city  lieth 

In  golden,  placid  splendor,  — 

Is  it  fairer  than  yon  sky, 

Hung  o'er  with  radiance  tender, 

With  glory  from  on  high  ? 

O  unseen  spirits  that  wander 

Earthward  with  message  of  love  ! 
Oh  !  speak  of  the  land  up  yonder,  — 

The  land  that  shines  above  ; 
The  sun  that  breaketh  in  glory 

Over  the  dull  gray  world ; 
The  clouds,  marshalling  all  slowly, 

Like  rainbow  banner  unfurled  ; 


HOW  MAXY  SILENT   VOICES.  95 

And  tell  me  if  heaven  be  fairer 

Than  gold  and  amber  skies  : 
The  light  that  falls  —  oh  !  is  it  rarer 

Than  morning  in  this  guise  ? 


HOW   MANY   SILENT  VOICES! 

How  many  silent  voices 
Hath  the  silent  night !  — 

In  the  wind  that  tosses 
The  leaves  all  alight ; 

In  the  voice  .of  stars  ablaze 
Up  in  the  measureless  sky ; 

In  the  voice  of  waning  moon 
Majestic  sailing  by ; 

And  the  dwellers  in  the  sea ; 

The  sea-flower  pale  below ; 
The  wave  of  voiceless  tree ; 

The  rose  like  drift  of  snow. 


96  IN  EXILE. 

List !     I  hear  them  all, 

As  through  the  solemn  night 

Soft  and  sweet  they  call, 

Like  viewless  things  of  light. 

Oh  !  the  angels  are  abroad, 
And  in  the  dimness  sweep 

A  misty  radiance  round  my  head, 
A  glory  at  my  feet. 


IN    EXILE. 

DAY  wanes ;  and  stealthy  night  inwraps 

Its  sombre  shadows  round  the  busy  human  tide 

Which  all  day  have  surged  through  the  crowded  ways, 

Remorselessly  beating  'gainst  the  feeble  waifs 

Cast  wrecked  and  worn  upon  the  shores  of  Time, 

Their  semblance  of  humanity  crushed  out, 

As  obstacles  that  rise  in  the  way  of  its  advancement,  — 

Perilled  and  bartered  souls,  who  can  date 

Their  downfall  to  this  fair-seeming  day, 

Lured  by  some  treacherous,  shining  wave 


IX    EXILE.  97 

Which  bore  upon  its  bosom  the'  richest  garniture  of 

years, 

And  that  priceless  jewel,  Honor, 
Which,  once  relinquished,  no  tidal  wave 
In  the  dim,  receding  years  upheaves. 
But,  alas  !  beneath  its  surge  and  roll 
Long  belts  of  cold  gray  rock 
And  treacherous  quicksands  lay, 
'Mong  which  a  whirlpool  circled, 
Eddying  round,  opening  its  jaws  rapacious, 
Seeking  to  ingulf  'neath  the  sounding  waves 
A  soul,  leaving  the  casket  tenantless. 
And  now  the  shadows  deepen. 
Until  the  stately  look  dim ; 
While  just  beyond  rise  the  towering  summits 
Of  the  Rocky  range,  crowned  with  eternal  snows, 
That  whitely  gleam,  and  mingle 

With  the  parting  clouds,  until  my  vision  fails  to  scan 
Where  mountains  end,  and  clouds  begin ; 
While  above,  like  a  tiny  jewel  set  in  Night's 
Regal  diadem,  one  glimmering  star  peeps  forth, 
Hanging  low  upon  the  mountain's  brow 
In  mystery  and  sublimity. 
My  soul  delights  in  all  this  beauty,  and  yet 
7 


98  IN  EXILE. 

Is  chilled  with  the  plaintive,  melancholy  sound 

Of  the  wind  that  comes  from  the  distant 

Heights,  bearing  on  its  wings  odors  from 

Unnumbered  blossoms  and  vinous  shrubs, 

Faint  and  delicious,  wrapping  the  senses  round 

Like  subtle  perfume  borne  from  Eastern  land. 

Each  bird  has  sought  its  leafy  couch,  — 

Some  among  the  whispering  pines ;  while  the 

Chaffinch  and  oriole  are 

Lulled  into  repose  in  the  swaying, 

Ancient  poplars.     I  hear  the  river 

Rush  all  along  the  gleaming  sands, 

And  see  its  waters  wandering  far  down 

The  plain,  till,  lost  in  the  interminable  stretch, 

It  rolls  away,  commingling  with  its  sister-streams* 

A  faint  glow  o'erspreads  the  eastern  hills, 

Semblance  bearing  to  the  rosy  hues  of  morn ; 

While  I  see  the  crescent  Moon  rise  up  in  all 

Her  glory,  and  walk  the  heavens  a  queen. 

My  spell-bound  vision  no  longer  ranges, 

But  dwells  with  lingering  gaze 

Upon  the  radial  lights  that  shoot 

Across  the  heavens,  scattering  the  clouds, 

And  piercing  through  mists  that 


IN  EXILE.  99 

Settled  o'er  the  valley ;  glancing  on 

The  lake's  unrippled  surface  ; 

Flecking  with  long,  shining  bars  its  margin, 

All  adorned  with  creeping  vines, 

And  roses  wild  just  bursting  into  bloom. 

Ah  !  sweet  Night,  thou  trailest  thy  shadowy 

Vestments  over  land  and  restless  sea ; 

Drawing  thy  mighty  veil  athwart  the  vision  ; 

Hiding  Day's  brighter  glories,  yet  revealing 

Dimly  its  beauties,  mellowed  and 

Toned  down,  until  each  object  bearing 

Animate  life  seems  lulled  into  repose, 

And  a  sadness  deep  steals  o'er  me 

As  the  solemn  hours  flit  by  ; 

And  olden  memories  come  as  shadows  in  the  sky 

Of  the  royal  land  that  gave  me  birth,  its 

Shaded  vales  and  streams, 
Where  the  blossoming  hillside  caught 

Its  rosy,  purplish  gleams 
From  the  sun's  red  glow,  that  kissed 

The  opening  flowers, 
And  beams  on  them  with  steadfast  ray 

Throughout  the  summer-hours. 
And  I  wander  an  exile  evermore.     No  land 


100  77,1    MUNE  SHINES  HRIGHT. 

Can  seem  so  fair  ; 
No  other  sunshine  gleam  on  me  with 

Such  a  radiance  rare  ; 
No  other  friend  give  greeting  so  tender 

And  so.  kind  ; 
No  other  token  seem  so  sweet 

As  this  token  that  I  find 
Within  memory's  deep,  still  chambers, 

Where,  sleeping  never  more, 
Its  tenants  wait  for  signal 

From  yonder  deathless  shore. 


THE   MUNE   SHINES   BRIGHT.  . 

OH  !  saft  and  sweet  the  new  mune  shines 
Abune  the  cauld,  gray  plains  ; 

Oh  !  saft  and  sweet  the  wind's  low  chimes 
Brak'  into  sad  refrains. 

The  mountains  rise  wi'  crest  o'  snow 

To  meet  the  bendin'  skies ; 
Far  in  the  west  a  bricht  star  glows, 

And  blinks  wi'  shinin'  eyes 


THE  MUNE  SHINES  BRIGHT.  101 

Upo'  the  warld,  the  dreary  warld, 

That  brak'  my  heart  long  sin' ; 
While  yon  gret  cloud  unco  furled 

Round  the  mune  a  silver  rim. 

Wi'  shinin'  eyes  a'  the  lesser  stars 

Gang  down  the  milky-way, 
And  smilin'  back  on  bluidy  Mars 

Lik'  tiny  warlds  at  play. 

O  luvly  mune !  O  luvly  nicht ! 

O  blinkin',  blinkin'  star, 
Ashimn'  up  in  the  heavens  sae  bricht 

Abune  the  hills  afar  ! 

Will  ye  nae  gie  my  sorry  heart 

A  robe  as  pure  as  the  lilies'  snow, 
Sae,  when  angels  ca'  me  in  the  dark, 

Their  voices  I  sure  shall  know  ? 

And  in  sinless  garments  I  lay  me  down, 
While  the  sweet  young  mune  may  shine, 

And  cast  on  my  grave  a  wilderin'  crown, 
And  my  lowly  bed  inshriue 


102  PARTED. 

Wi'  a  halo  o'  glory  sae  pure  and  bright, 

That  footsteps  passin'  nigh 
Sha'  tread  sae  saftly,  sha'  tread  sae  licht, 

Nor  unco  weep  nor  sigh  ; 

But,  as  they  gither  a  rose  wi'  luvin'  hand 

From  out  its  sister  fold, 
They'll  think  o'  me  'mid  the  shinin'  band 

That  wa'k  the  streets  o'  gold. 


PARTED. 

SOUNDS  of  laughter,  sounds  of  music, 
Mingled  with  the  voices'  hum  ; 

Gleam  of  jewel,  flash  of  gaslight, 
As  "the  thronging  memories  come. 

Oh  !  the  halls  are  wide  in  my  palace  fair ; 

But  heavy  my  heart  with  dole  and  care. 

Within  yon  room  are  dancing  feet 
Keeping  time  with  music  sweet ; 


PARTED.  103 

And  the  voices  flow  and  hum 
As  the  thronging  memories  come. 
Oh !  my  palace-halls  are  wide  and  fair ; 
But  heavy  my  heart  with  dole  and  care. 

Once  I  paused  'neath  the  maples'  glow, 
-In  the  olden  time,  in  the  long-ago  : 
Crimson  and  gold  the  leaves 
Lay  at  my  feet ;  the  yellow  sheaves 
The  reapers  bound  in  the  fields  away  ; 
The  purple  mists  o'er  the  valley  lay ; 
And  the  forest-aisles,  with  garlands  gay, 
Were  all  aflame  this  autumn-day. 

I  said,  "  Farewell !  "  the  skies  grew  dim ; 

"  Farewell !  "  echoed  the  fields ; 
The  daisies  paled  round  their  purple  rim 

As  the  sound  died  away  in  mournful  peals ; 
The  wind  sobbed  low  ;  the  sob  of  the  pine 
In  harmony  blent  like  the  mystic  chime. 

There  was  a  clasp  of  hands  that  nevermore 
Shall  clasp  in  meeting  on  earth's  dim  shore  ; 
Footsteps  paused  'neath  the  maples'  glow 
In  that  olden  time,  that  long-ago, 


104  PARTED. 

When  the  skies  were  bright,  and  then  grew  dim, 
And  the  pines  sobbed  aloud,  while  the  winds  crept 

in; 

Around  the  circling  sun  a  cloud 
Inwrapped  its  white  mantle  like  a  shroud. 

Over  the  seas  one  sailed  away, 

Robbing  the  day  of  its  gold,  — 
Sailed  away  where  tropic  bay 

Placid  waves  in  silver  fold. 
Oh  !  my  palace-halls  are  wide  and  fair  ; 
But  heavy  my  spirit  with  dole  and  care. 

I  stand  beneath  the  star-gemmed  sky, 
While  the  round  white  moon  sails  slowly  by ; 
And  I  hear  the  music's  swell ; 

And  the  dancing  feet 

To  its  melody  do  beat ; 
And  like  a  solemn  knell 
The  sound  of  that  farewell, 
And  one  who  sailed  away 
O'er  silver  sea  to  tropic  bay, 
The  maples'  glow,  the  yellow  sheaves, 
The  crimson  and  gold  of  autumn-leaves. 


PARTED.  105 

I  see  the  sheen  of  my  bridal  robes ; 

And  the  orange-flowers  infold 
The  misty  veil  that  floateth  down 

Like  web  of  transparent  gold  ; 
The  form  of  stately  grace  I  see  ; 
The  look  of  love  that's  bent  on  me ; 
Words  I  hear,  tender  and  sweet, 
Crushing  the  lilies  'neath  my  feet, 
Scattered  by  one  who  loved  me  well 
Ere  I  spoke  that  last  farewell. 
Oh  !  my  palace-halls  are  wide  and  fair ; 
But  heavy  my  heart  with  dole  and  care. 

My  hair  is  black  as  the  raven's  wing ; 

But  blacker  the  shadows  in  my  soul, 
As  it  peers  through  the  darkness,  shutting  in 

Its  sorrow  and  its  dole : 
While  high  above  the  melody  there  swell 
The  echoes  of  that  sad  farewell ; 

And  the  dancing  feet, 
And  the  laughter  gay, 

And  the  music  sweet, 
In  the  halls  away, 

Hath  a  mocking  tone, 

Like  a  moan  or  groan  ; 


106  PARTED. 

And  a  spectre  haunteth  me 

Of  one  who  sailed  away 

O'er  silver  sea  to  tropic  bay. 
Oh  !  my  palace-halls  are  grand  and  fair ; 
But  heavy  my  soul  with  dole  and  care. 

O  silver  sea  !  O  tropic  bay  ! 

Waft  to  the  flower-girt  shore 
One  memory  of  that  autumn-day 

That  cometh  back  no  more. 
Is  the  stately  head  bent  low, 

Or  lifted  in  love  and  light, 
Soft  o'er  the  heart  will  steal,  I  know, 

Memories  fair  and  bright 
Of  a  bride  at  the  altar  ;  the  autumn-leaves, 
And  the  reapers  binding  the  yellow  sheaves, 
And  the  trees  aflame  in  the  forest-aisle ; 
Of  the  heart  that  loved  without  a  guile ; 
Of  the  farewell  spoken  'neath  the  glow 
Of  the  bending  maples  long  ago. 


LIFE  AND  DEATH.  107 


LIFE   AND   DEATH. 

stood  just  within  Night's  portals, 

And  gently  forth  did  peep, 
As  if  afraid  of  rousing  Earth's  mortals 

Up  from  their  quiet  sleep  : 
But  her  pale  beams  lit  all  the  valley 

And  the  lone  mountain's  steep  ; 
And  the  wind  began  to  sigh  mournfully, 

Rippling  the  lakelets  deep, 
Music  making  through  the  rocky  chasm  ; 

Waking  the  violets  meek, 

Shaking  the  dew-drop  from  their  velvet  petals ; 
Sweeping  odors  from  the  silver-maples  ; 

Stooping  to  kiss  the  opening  rose  ; 

Wandering  where  the  buttercup  blows. 
And  luminous  was  all  the  sky 

With  a  pale  amber  light, 
And  wore  her  radiant,  fleecy  robes 

With  a  grace  so  bright ! 


108  LIFE  AND  DEATH. 

The  glorious  sun  tipped  tree  and  flower 

And  emerald  vales ; 
The  lark's  song  rose  high,  and  blended  with 

The  melodious  nightingale's. 
This  morning  ushers  in 

Death  and  Life, 
Each  warring  with  the  other 

In  melancholy  strife. 
Side  by  side,  hand  in  hand, 
Pause  they  not  on  Earth's  dim  strand, 
Each  possessed  with  mystic  wand,  — 
One  tipped  with  life,  the  other  manned 
With  that  ghastly  thing  called  Death ; 
And  from  its  nostrils  one  icy  breath 

Forever  freezes  and  forever  chills 

The  eye  that  sparkles,  the  heart  that  thrills 
But  the  soul  looks  up  o'er  the  battle's  din 
To  the  glory  beyond  that  it's  sure  to  win. 


MIDNIQI1T.  109 


MIDNIGHT. 

THE  hush  of  midnight  rests  in  solemn  gloom 

O'er  all  the  world  asleep  ; 
While,  slowly  sailing  on,  the  majestic  moon 

Out  from  the  ragged  clouds  doth  peep, 
Leaving  long  belts  of  mellow  light, 

Silvering  the  solemn  plain, 
Piercing  through  the  shades  of  night, 

And  moving  in  her  train 
Of  stars  that  glitter  and  softly  glow 
With  lesser  light  on  the  earth  below. 
Dimly  in  the  distance  the  mountains  I  trace ; 

While  to  their  hoary  crests 
The  moonlight  lends  a  glamour  and  grace 

As  it  lightly  on  them  rests. 
There  is  a  charm  in  this  midnight-hour 

That  speaks  to  all  my  soul ; 
A  peaceful  calm,  a  sacred  power, 

Through  all  its  portals  roll ; 


110  THE  SUICIDE. 

And  I  see  in  the  moon,  I  see  in  the  clouds, 

I  see  in  each  glimmering  star, 
And  plains  that  sleep  in  shadow-like  shrouds 

And  stretch  in  the  distance  afar, 
The  great  Architect's  power,  the  mighty  hand, 
The  voice  that  speaks  in  tones  so  grand, 
Yet  so  small  and  still,  that  while  I  list, 
And  my  spirit  keeps  its  lonely  tryst, 
The  hours  have  fled,  the  midnight's  gone, 
And  gray  light  heralds  the  coming  morn. 


THE   SUICIDE. 

DESPAIRING  arid  homeless,  she  fled 

Out  in  the  cheerless  night : 
No  pitying  angel  her  footsteps  stayed 

In  their  mad,  reckless  flight. 

Yet  the  stars  shone  on  as  they  ever  shine  ; 

And  shone  the  crescent  moon  ; 
Its  silver  light  fell  on  each  nook  and  dell 

Fragrant  with  summer  bloom. 


THE  SUICIDE.  Ill 

All  through  night's  silence  came  the  sound 

Of  the  sullen,  restless  sea, 
As  it  ever  rolled  on  with  quiver  and  moan 

Like  a  lost  soul  in  agony. 

'Neath  its  blue  waves  she  sought  repose : 

How  softly  they  closed  around, 
And  quickly  enshrouded  her  fair,  frail  form, 

With  so  many  graces  crowned ! 

The  tide  rolled  in,  the  tide  rolled  out ; 

On  the  yellow  sands  she  lay ; 
Dank  seaweed  twined  in  her  golden  hair ; 
And  in  her  blue  eyes  death's  stony  glare  : 
But  a  smile  dwelt  on  lip  and  face  so  fair, 
As  angels  had  left  their* impress  there, 

And  flown  with  her  soul  away. 


112  A  POEM  ON   THE 


A  POEM  OX  THE  SEA. 

I  paused  in  the  evening  tide 

On  the  majestic  ocean's  shore : 
The  clouds  across  the  heavens  did  ride  ; 

And  the  moon  began  to  pour 
A  luminous  flood  on  the  restless  waves, 

As  they  beat  with  sullen  roar 
O'er  the  yellow  sands,  the  shifting  sands, 

And  beat  and  beat  evermore. 

Afar  and  away  rose  the  stately  hills, 
Crowned  with  soft  gray  light ; 

While  shining  rifts  of  moonshine  crept, 
Like  clouds  of  silvery  white, 

Across  the  marsh  and  across  the  brake, 
That  seemed  asleep  this  solemn  night. 


A    POEM  OJT  TOE  SEA.  1 "  I 

And  my  vision  soared  where  a  million  stats 

Twinkled,  and  glimmering  shone 
With  radiance  soft,  while  following  afar 

In  the  wake  of  the  glittering  moon ; 
And  the  cold  winds  swept  the  salt  seaweed 

That  dank  and  lifeless  lay 
Where  the  treacherous  tide  that  morn  had  lured 

It  up  from  the  sunken  bay. 

And  the  solemn  beauty  that  grandly  robed 

The  majestic  earth  and  sky 
Surged  through  my  brain  and  wandering  soul 

Like  echoing  strains  that  never  die  ; 
That  cliff  repeat,  and  answering  care, 

U:.:il  their  last  and  faintest  sigh 
Seems  among  the  clouds  and  among  the 

And  the  zephyrs  sweet4hat  wander  by. 


114  SOLD. 


SOLD. 

THESE  jewels  flash  and  gleam  to-night, 

Mocking  my  soul's  agony, 
Wreathing,  twining,  clasping  so  tight, 

While  the  hours  laggingly 
Pass  on  Time's  dull  and  tedious  wings, 
That  back  on  my  heart  silently  flings 
Memories  that  Lethe's  mystical  wave, 
Though  all  its  drowsy  waters  should  lave 

This  secret  sanctuary, 
Could  never  lull  into  unbroken  sleep 
The  Past's  dim  cadence  that  o'er  me  sweeps  ; 
And  I  had  garnered  and  kept  with  jealous  care, 

In  a  rich  repository, 
A  clustered  gem,  so  sweet  and  fair, 
With  glamour  laden,  and  so  rare, 
That  my  dazed  soul  took  only  in 
The  paler  shine  of  its  golden  rim. 


SOLD.  115 

One  day  I  lost  it  in  the  whirl  and  rush, 

In  the  battle's  din*- 
In  vain  I  seek,  my  heart  to  hush, 

My  jewel  back  to  win. 
To-night  I  sit  in  my  halls  of  mirth, 
Feeling  within  a  melancholy  dearth ; 
Seeking  ever  for  that  inner  light 
Which  gave  to  my  soul  a  new  birthright : 
So  these  jewels,  that  flash  and  gleam 

On  my  brow  mockingly, 
Ever  point,  through  the  years  that  chime 

In  the  halls  of  memory, 
To  that  far  past,  wherein  my  soul, 
Unsoiled,  sought  the  shining  goal 
That  lured  me  on  with  illusive  show, 
And  beckoned  me  with  its  illusive  glow. 
Corroding  care  sits  at  the  springs 

Of  my  life  sullenly, 
Heeding  not  what  bitterness  it  brings, 

Nor  what  melancholy: 
A  phantom  it  sits  at  every  feast, 
Seemingly  counting  each  bidden  guest. 
When  merriment  noisily  creepeth  in, 
It  ever  looks  on  with  ghastly  grin  ; 


116  SOLD. 

Its  ghoul-like  eyes  emitting  a  light 

Which  falls  on  my  heart  with  terrible  blight. 

Its  reflection  I  see  in  the  emerald's  gleam 

That  mingles  shiningly 
With  the  diamond's  glimmering  sheen, 

And  gold  wrought  cunningly, 
Interlaced  and  woven  with  curious  skill. 
This  bracelet  I  clasp  with  undefined  thrill, 
As  if  fearing  the  touch  of  a  cold,  dead  hand 
'Twixt  that  of  mine  and  this  fettering  band. 
The  world,  envying  my  glitter  and  gold, 

Looks  on  smilingly, 
Heeding  not  the  heart's  wealth  sold, 

Like  a  miser,  grudgingly ; 
While  I  see  in  its  hollow  praise, 
'Neath  all  its  false  and  delusive  ways, 
This  spectre  pale  who  mocketh  all, 
Shrouding  my  heart  like  a  funeral-pall. 


THE   OLD   CHURCH.  117 


THE   OLD   CHURCH. 

IT  was  a  day  in  spring-time.     Earth  smiled, 
And  donned  her  flowing  robes  with  such  royal  grace 
As  might  befit  a  queen.     On  this  day,  within  the  por 
tals 

Of  a  time-worn  church,  I  idly  wandered ; 
While  through  its  dim  aisles  phantoms  of  the  fair, 

sweet  past 

Yet  lingered  like  the  echoes  of  a  pleasant  melody. 
Through  its  windows,  ivy-wreathed  and  stained, 
A  sunbeam  glanced,  and  on  the  sacred  altar  rested, 
Where  nevermore  should  sound 
The  voice  of  praise  or  prayer,  lending 
A  gentle  radiance  to  its  decay,  and  dispelling 
The  shadowy  twilight  that  lingered  there. 
Through  ihe  ancient  portals  and  open  door 
The  fresh  winds  softly  came,  all  laden 
With  the  wild  flowers'  fragrance.     Outside,  the  mourn 
ful  pine  — 


118  THE   OLD   CHURCH. 

That,  even  on  the  brightest  summer's  day, 

Sighs  as  if  with  some  secret  pain  — 

Waved  its  branches,- and  still  moaned  on. 

I  passed  within  the  ancient  chancel,  and  pictured 

How,  in  days  gone  by,  had  gathered  there 

The  young,  the  gay,  the  happy, 

The  aged,  and  sorrow-stricken  too  ; 

And  how  the  infant  at  the  baptismal  font 

Had  received  the  holy  blessing. 

All,  all,  had  passed  away,  — 

Some  in  life's  fair  young  morning ;    ,  - 

And  some  had  aged  grown 

Ere  they  were  called  to  heaven  ; 

Some  toiled  in  other  lands : 

But  all,  at  last,  should  don  death's  cerements. 

And  I  fancied  the  broken  organ-keys, 

Touched   by  unseen   hands,    sent   forth   harmonious 

strains, 

With  which  were  mingled  voices  from  an  angel-band. 
It  was  a  dream ;  but  around  me  evermore 
Memories  of  that  day  will  softly  linger, 
Till  time,  never  pausing  in  its  flight, 
Will  bring  about  the  longed-for  hour 
When  I  shall  sing  beyond  the  gates  of  paradise. 


THE  APACHE.  119 


THE  APACHE. 

WHERE  Gila's  mount  of  black  basalt 

Rears  to  the  skies  its  hoary  crest, 
Flinging  weird  lights  on  the  lower  hills 

That-  stretch  away  in  silent  rest, 
Down  to  the  valley  where  Gila's  stream 
Flows  swiftly  on  with  ripple  and  gleam, 
In  untrammelled  freedom  the  dread  Apache 

Mounts  his  flying  steed,  and  hies  away 
O'er  desert  plains  and  barren  wastes, 

Like. a  winged  demon  all  astray  ; 
In  ambush  halts,  with  gloating  soul, 
Till  the  shades  of  night  shall  o'er  him  roll ; 
Then,  sneaking,  he  glides  amid  the  rocks. 
In  his  downcast  eye  mad  murder  gleams  ; 
His  tongue  the  cunning  serpent's  tongue  ; 
His  gravity  deep,  a  mocking  screen 
That  hides  from  his  unwary  foe 
How  treachery  strikes  its  fatal  blow. 
In  hollow  dens  and  hidden  caves 

By  day  he  lurks  with  death  intent, 


120  THE  APACHE. 

Smiling  grimly  when  his  victim  falls 

From  the  arrow's  poison  so  stealthily  sent ; 
While  he  with  gory  and  glittering  blade 
Severs  from  the  head  of  the  murdered  maid 
Her  silken  locks  that  look  like  gold, 
Clasping  her  round  in  shining  fold. 
Now  bloody  warrior  and  hag-like  squaw, 

With  impish  babe  and  elfish  child, 
With  knotty  fagot  and  brush  and  brake, 

All  gather  in  the  forest  wild  ; 
While  their  howls  rise  shrill  and  high 
On  the  affrighted  breeze  that  wanders  by. 
And  the  victim  they  bind  to  the  burning  stake, 

With  pitiless  torture  prolonging  his  life ; 
Cutting  and  piercing  his  quivering  flesh  ; 

Striving  still  with  mortal  strife, 
Each  seeking  some  new,  awful  mode 
To  dabble  in  his  curdled  blood ; 
Screeching  if  they  rend  a  groan 

From  his  cold  and  clammy  lips, 
While,  oozing  from  unnumbered  wounds, 

The  crimson  tide  all  slowly  drips  ; 
While  they  whirl  around  with  terrible  din, 
Dancing  the  death-dance  with  hellish  vim, 


THE  APACHE.  121 

Till  their  dread  orgies  o'er  all  that  remains 

Is  a  dimly-smouldering  heap 
Of  embers  dead  ;  while,  above,  the  stars 

Glimmeringly  seem  to  keep 
A  mournful  watch,  and  the  white  moonbeams 
Peer  through  the  shades  in  fitful  gleams, 
While  they  coiled  sleep  in  a  clump  of  pines, 

Like  the  filthy  cur  who  rends  the  night 
With  snarling  bark  and  whine  prolonged, 

While  he  howls  out  his  affright 
If  a  leaflet  is  stirred  by  the  sighing  breeze 
As  it  skips  about  'mong  the  forest-trees. 
His  soul  delights  in  wampum-belt 

All  thickly  studded  with  shining  beads ; 
While  pendent  hangs  the  ghastly  scalp,  — 

Trophies  of  his  murderous  deeds  ; 
While  in  secret  he  scans  the  mingled  locks 
With  the  greedy  eye  of  a  hungry  fox. 
Each  tribe  owns  a  doctor,  or  medicine-man, 

That  like  a  mystic  divinity  dwells 
Alone  in  a  tepe,  where  he  converse  holds  • 

With  bogies  that  haunt  the  caves  and  fells ; 
While  his  hideous  face  more  hideous  seems, 
All  streaked  with  red  and  horrible  greens. 


122  THE  APACHE. 

When,  swooping  down  with  invisible  wing, 

Death  woes  him  into  eternal  sleep, 
And  his  soul  is  gone  to  the  "  hunting-grounds," 

Where  it,  mayhap,  will  meet 
Its  own  wild  steed,  and  bestride  him  there, 
Unjaded,  unfettered,  fleet,  and  fair ; 
While  the  body's  suspended  upon  a  limb, 

And  magpie  and  raven  peck 
At  his  staring  eyes,  and  seem  to  gloat 

O'er  the  morsels  they  steal  from  his  fleshiest* 

neck; 

His  only  shroud  the  soft  emerald  leaves 
That  cluster  around  on  the  forest-trees.    - 
This  is  the  life  of  the  noble  "  red  man  " 

Who  roams  the  Western  plains ; 
This  the  prowess  of  which  poets  have  sung 

In  their  loftiest,  sweetest  strains  ; 
While  with  reeking  hand  and  murderous  heart 
Retires  to  his  mountain-fastness  all  apart, 
And,  unmolested,  gloats  o'er  his  stolen  hoard 
With  fury  unabated,  and  memory  all  stored 
With  invented  wrongs  and  treacherous  hate 
Which  no  blood  of  "  pale-face  "  can  ever  sate. 


MELODY.  123 


MELODY. 

•-* 

A  MELODY  I  heard  :  'twas  like  the  songs 

That  swell  on  the  heavenly  plains. 
And  upward  I  gazed  till  the  angel-throng 

That  chanted  these  sweet  refrains 
Seemed  to  break  on  my  vision  ;  the  gates  of  gold 
All  backward  swung  in  shining  fold  ; 
And,  crowned  with  pearl,  their  pillars  white 
Uprose  by  a  sea  of  dazzling  light. 

There  was  no  day,  there  was  no  change ; 

But  the  floods  of  glory  sweeping  down 
In  endless  brightness  grew  so  strange, 

That  all  the  earth  seemed  crowned 
With  holy  radiance  ;  and  the  sun 
Abashed  hid  ere  his  course  was  run, 
Till  the  stars  came  out,  till  the  sweet  young  moon 
Hung  high  above  the  fields  of  June. 


124  MARIA. 

Still  then  on  the  mountains  there  lino-ered  a  licrht : 

o  o          * 

On  the  emerald  plains  e'en  the  shadows  grew  bright; 
While  the  remnants  of  splendor  faded  away 
As  bright  spirits  sang  'mid  the  fields  of  day. 


MARIA. 

THE  noonday  sun  shone  hot ;  no  dewy  spot 
Remained  untouched  by  its  yellow  glare : 

O'er  the  restless  sea,  on  the  barren  lea, 
And  all  on  the  flowerets  fair, 

It  ghastly  shone,  while  the  wind  made  moan ; 
And  flying  through  the  air 

A  thousand  things  with  noisy  wings, 
Which  seemed,  in  my  despair, 

Like  a  mottled  crew  of  spirits  damned, 

Or  a  legion  that  throng  in  Hades  land. 

For  dead  on  her  bier  was  fair  Maria, 

Lying  so  cold  and  white, 
Unheeding  my  grief,  and  never  needing 

Throughout  the  day  and  solemn  night 


THE  BURIAL.  125 

The  ministries  of  love  ;  but  as  the  snow-white  dove 
Plumes  its  wings,  and  takes  its  flight, 

Her  soul  soared  away  where  endless  day 
Is  never  merged  into  dreary  night. 


THE  BURIAL. 

SLOW  tramp  of  muffled  feet ; 

Slow  roll  of  muffled  drum  ; 
Sad  and  slow  the  dirges  beat 

As  sad  and  slow  they  come 
"Winding  through  the  crowded  street, 

Under  the  fretted  dome  ; 

Winding  upward  o'er  the  hills, 

Downward  winding  through  the  fields, 

Onward  past  the  forest  rills  : 
Still  the  mournful  music  peals ; 

Still  the  tramp  of  muffled  feet 

Echoes  through  the  sounding  street ; 

And  the  muffled  drum  beats  slow 

As  the  dirges  outward  flow. 


126  TO  MY  BELOVED  DAUGHTER  LILLIE. 

Tramp,  tramp  !  roll,  roll ! 

'Tis  only  the  dust  ye  bear  away : 
The  soul  has  reached  the  shining  goal 

Up  in  the  fields  of  endless  day. 


TO   MY   BELOVED   DAUGHTER   LTLL1E. 

BEAUTIFUL  home  in  heaven  away  ; 
Beautiful  angels  in  bright  array ; 
Beautiful  city  with  streets  of  gold ; 
Beautiful  sea  in  waveless  fold, 
Lying  amid  whose  silver  strand, 
Stretcheth  adown  the  shining  land. 

Beautiful  streets  that  wind  about ; 
Beautiful  gates  that  shut  me  out, 
Wrought  with  pearl  and  starry  crown 
In  wondrous  glory  sweeping  down ; 
Beautiful  shore  where  spirits  sing 
With  harps  of  gold,  and  snowy  wing 

Plumed  for  flight,  and  mission  of  love. 
O  beautiful  home  in  heaven  above  I 


COME  UP  HIGHER.  127 

Strange,  sweet  city,  that  hath  no  night ! 

0  glorious  land  beyond  my  sight ! 

1  long  to  wander  by  thy  silver  sea  ; 
I  wait  for  thy  glory  to  shine  on  me. 


COME  UP  HIGHER. 

SLOWLY  drifting  with  the  tide, 

Counting  all  the  fleeting  hours ; 
Aimless  drifting  far  and  wide 

Underneath  the  pitiless  showers,  — 

Underneath  dull,  heavy  clouds, 

That  in  wrap  the  sky  in  misty  shrouds, 

Which  sunbeam  parteth  not,  nor  moonlight  glow, 

Nor  shine  of  stars  on  the  earth  below ; 

Holding  in  my  fevered  grasp 

Withered  emblems  of  my  youth ; 
Gathering  eagerly,  as  I  pass, 

Emblems  of  unspotted  truth  ; 

Seeing  in  the  distance  the  fadeless  shore  ; 
Hearing,  far  above  life's  din  and  roar, 


128  COME  UP  HIGHER. 

The  low,  faint  chant  of  an  angel-choir, 

In  echoing  strains,  "  Oh !  come  up  higher." 

9 

What  if  my  bark  sails  slowly  out 

With  the  sluggish,  creeping  tide, 
Or  whirls  in  the  eddy  idly  about, 

Or  mockingly  doth  ride 
O'er  sunken  reef,  on  the  billow's  crest, 
Or  sweeping  on  in  gloom  and  unrest  ? 

I  know  that  at  last  my  weary  feet 

Shall  pause  by  the  shining  sea  ; 
I  know  that  at  last  the  loved  I  shall  greet 

Who  on  earth  were  lost  to  me  ; 
While,  reaching  far  down  from  their  deathless  land, 
The  long-drawn  link,  the  invisible  band, 
I  seem  to  hold  in  my  trembling  hand. 

So  I  smile  at  the  cloud ;  I  smile  at  the  storms ; 

I  smile  at  the  pitiless  showers : 
On  fadeless  shores  I  discern  bright  forms, 

And  hear,  through  the  fleeting  hours, 
The  low,  sweet  strains  of  the  angel-choir, 
Chanting  ever  to  me,  "•  Oh  !  come  up  higher." 


ON  THE  SANDS.  129 


ON   THE  SANDS. 

ON  the  shifting  sands  we  found  her, 
On  the  silver  sands,  asleep : 

The  summer-winds  stole  around  her  ; 
The  sea  rolled  at  her  feet,  — 

The  chainless  sea,  that  bound  her 
Unto  this  slumber  deep. 

A  sunbeam  kissed  her  raven  hair, 
Wondering  why  so  cold  and  fair 
Was  the  upturned  marble  face, 
Frozen  into  awful  grace ; 
Or  why  the  fringed  eyelids  lay 

Unlifted  o'er  the  midnight  eyes ; 
Or  why  the  golden  light  of  day 

Waked  her  not  in  sweet  surprise. 

The  tide  rolled  out ;  the  sullen  sea 
Repeated  its  harsh  complaint ; 


130  ON   THE  SANDS. 

The  wren  piped  along  the  fallow  lea. 

But  there,  like  some  blessed  saint, 
Undisturbed  she  slept :  no  sound, 

No  dreamy  echoes  on  the  hills  afar, 
No  sunshine  softly  creeping  round, 

No  gleam  of  evening's  holiest  star, 
Can  bid  her  wake, 
And  softly  take 
Along  the  silver  sand  her  way, 
That  stretches  far  down  to  silver  bay. 

But  the  bee  might  strive  to  sip 
Extracts  sweet  from  her  rigid  lip  : 
The  lapwing  rest  on  her  raven  hair,  - 

Tangling  his  feet, 

Singing  as  sweet 
As  the  angels  up  in  mid-air ; 

The  winds  might  flutter  ; 

The  fretted  sea  mutter, 
And  lament  to  the  stones 
In  wild  monotones : 
But  ever  unanswering  she  lies 
Under  the  glowing  summer  skies, 
That  wake  her  not  in  sweet  surprise. 


LYING  LOW.  131 


LYING  LOW. 

RAINS  may  beat,  and  winds  may  blow  ; 
The  seasons  come,  the  seasons  go  ; 
Cold  and  high  the  winter's  snow 
Fall  around  thee,  lying  low  ; 

The  richest  buds  of  verdurous  spring 
May  break  in  beauty  o'er  thy  grave  ; 

And  summer  suns  around  it  cling  ; 
And  summer  airs  all  lightly  wave 

The  tasselled  vines,  beneath  the  hill 
Hippie  the  waters  by  the  mill, 
May  rustle  all  the  waving  corn ; 
The  smile  of  eve,  the  smile  of  morn, 

Blush  o'er  the  fields  in  bright  array  ; 
And  singing  birds  in  forests  gay 
May  circle  and  wheel  above  the  dead  ; 
Lilies  white  and  roses  red 


132  SUMMER. 

May  cast  their  fragrance  at  thy  feet, 
Disturbing  not  thy  dreamless  sleep : 
Thy  v.pturned  face  —  oh  !  no  wind  that  blows 
Can  break  its  grand  and  calm  repose. 


SUMMER. 

UNDER  the  roses  the  shadows  lie ; 

On  the  hills  the  grass  is  green  ; 
Down  in  the  vale  the  stream  rolls  by, 

Lit  up  with  mystical  gleam  ; 

* 

Across  the  sky  the  lambent  folds 

Of  a  rainbow  melting  away, 
And  mingled,  fall  with  the  sunbeam's  gold 

Upon  the  perfect  fields  away, 

Till,  as  a  shimmer  of  glory,  it  fadeth  out,  — 
The  shimmer  not  seen  by  mortal  eyes,  — 

That  hangeth  the  emerald  plains  about, 
Stretching  beyond  the  upper  skies. 


MUSINGS.  133 

And  a  glow  I  see  of  all  things  fair  — 
The  purple  haze  of  a  summer's  day  — 

Upon  the  fields,  the  sky,  the  air, 
And  down  in  the  vales  away. 

Ah !  the  smile  of  Christ  is  o'er  all  the  earth, 

Till  it  seemeth  unto  me 
That  the  glory  of  heaven  must  own  its  birth 

To  this  glory  that  stretches  free 

Around  the  sky,  and  stretches  afar, 
Till,  pale  and  sweet,  it  seems  to  hold 

^ 

A  radiance  like  a,  morning  star 
Within  its  mystic  fold. 


MUSINGS. 

ALONE  I  sit  in  this  midnight  hour : 
The  shrill  winds  pipe  without ; 

Soft  and  fair  a  fleecy  shower 
Drifts  through  the  silent  night, 

And  drifteth  high  and  drifteth  low 
Like  a  shroud  of  spotless  white. 


134  MUSINGS. 

No  moon,  no  stars ;  the  leaden  sky 
Lowereth  heavily  as  my  fate  ; 

The  mocking  wind  echoes  my  sigh,  — 
Too  late,  too  late  ! 

But  the  angels  must  hear  my  yearning  cry 
Beyond  the  golden  gate. 

O  winds  that  blow !  O  drifting  snow  ! 

O  leaden,  leaden  sky, 
That  hangeth  heavy,  that  hangeth  low, 

Undeeding  my  desolate  cry 
As  I  gaze  afar  for  gleam  of  star, 

Or  moonbeam  following  nigh  ! 

My  shrouded  heart,  my  shrouded  life, 
Will  not  be  merged  in  eternal  gloom  : 

Then  cease,  oh  !  cease,  your  warring  strife : 
The  sun  must  flood  that  blazing  noon, 

That  will  break  in  glory  on  my  soul 
Beyond  its  earthly  tomb. 


IN  DARKNESS.  135 


IN  DARKNESS. 

I  "WALK  in  darkness :  never  a  light 
Radiates  my  dreary  night. 
I  walk  in  darkness  :  O  Father !  come 
And  take  thy  sorrowing  child  up  home. 

I'm  weary  of  sin ;  I'm  weary  of  strife ; 
Bereaved  and  desolate,  I'm  weary  of  life. 
O  blessed  angels,  floating  down 
With  starry  pinions  and  starry  crown  ! 

In  your  spotless  vestments  robe  my  soul, 
As  swift  the  tides  around  me  roll,  — 
The  tides  of  death,  the  tides  of  sin : 
Oh  !  ope  your  gates,  and  let  me  in. 

The  earth  is  fair  ;  but  fairer  heaven  : 
Longing  I  wait  till  to  my  soul  is  given 
The  power  to  soar  in  spotless  array 
Up  to  the  gates  of  eternal  day, 


136  DOWN   THE  BRIGHT  RIVER. 

Where  my  Father  dwells  in  glory  and  light. 
Then  come,  blessed  angels  !   in  robes  of  white, 
With  harps  of  gold,  and  starry  crown, 
And  bear  me  up  to  your  sinless  home. 


DOWN  THE  BRIGHT  RIVER. 

DOWN  the  bright  river  of  life  we  are  sailing, 
Approaching  an  unknown  land  evermore, 

Where  birds  are  singing,  and  fresh  breezes  blowing, 
And  sweet  flowers  bloom  on  the  emerald  shore. 

Out  with  the  silver  tide  we  are  ever  drifting, 
While  over  all  shines  the  golden  sun ; 

With  yearning  hearts  we  are  watching  and  waiting 
For  the  mystical  morrow  that  shall  never  dawn. 

Perchance,  while  we  wait  for  its  glint  and  gleam 

All  through  life's  fret  and  its  fever, 
We  forget,  evermore,  that  shining  shore 

To  which  we  are  all  drifting  ever. 


MELANCHOLY.  137 


MELANCHOLY. 

THE  long  golden  day  has  sped  away 

With  time  in  its  tireless  flight ; 
And  I  sit  and  muse  in  the  twilight's  gray, 

While  its  shadows  deepen  into  night. 

From  out  my  dead  past  shadowy  forms  arise  ; 

While  the  waves  of  the  sullen  sea 
Roll  up  at  my  feet,  and  roll  and  beat 

Like  a  long,  mournful  symphony. 

Up  from  the  flower-crowned  hills  far  away 
The  crescent  moon  in  her  glory  has  risen ; 

And  her  white  beams  fall  on  the  moaning  sea, 
Light  as  a  zephyr  from  heaven. 

From  the  flower-crowned  hills  arid  the  moaning  sea, 

From  the  newly -risen  moon, 
From  the  light  and  beauty  of  the  earth  and  sky, 

Sadly  and  mournfully  I  turn : 


138  AN  IDYL. 

For  nevermore  can  summer's  golden  bloom 
Waken  in  my  heart  its  former  joy ; 

Nor  friendship  nor  love,  nor  hope  nor  peace, 
Allure  me  to  destroy. 


AN    IDYL. 

BLUE  is  the  sky,  and  the  sunshine  golden ; 

Fragrant  the  summer-flowers ; 
Warble  the  birds  in  the  tree-tops  olden 

All  through  the  slow,  still  hours ; 

Fresh  blow  the  breezes,  and  lightly  wander 

O'er  the  wild  rose  in  its  bloom ; 
From  all  the  sunny  fields  the  sweet  white  clover 

Sends  forth  a  rich  perfume. 

Sounds  in  the  distance  the  rush  of  the  river 
In  the  hush  of  this  summer's  day : 

On  its  glancing  waves  the  tall  willows  quiver 
As  it  restlessly  rolls  away. 


NO  MORE.  139 

Pass  not  away,  O  golden  hours  of  summer ! 

Still  blow,  fragrant  breeze  ! 
Roll,  ceaseless  roll,  thou  never-resting  river ! 

Birds,  still  warble  in  waving  trees ! 

For  on  the  sunny  hillside  is  sleeping  my  lover ; 

He  will  waken  nevermore  : 
So  bloom,  sweet  flowers  !  and,  sunshine  !  quiver 

The  sacred  spot  all  o'er. 


NO    MORE. 

CRUSHED  by  Fate's  relentless  hand, 
My  soul,  that  heavenward  would  soar, 

Earthward  takes  its  grovelling  way, 

And  echoes  that  sad  refrain,  "  No  more,  no  more !  " 

The  wild  winds  that  sweep  o'er  the  desolate  sea, 
And  the  wild  waves  that  roll  on  the  sandy  shore, 

And  thunder  and  foam  against  the  rock-bound  coast, 
Echo  ever  to  me  mournfully,  "  No  more,  no  more  !  " 


140  GOOD-NIGHT. 

And  the  tempest  that  rages  with  the  angry  sea, 
And  the  threatening  clouds  that  lower, 

And  go  hurrying  by  o'er  the  darkened  sky, 
Seem  to  whisper,  "  No  more,  no  more  !  " 

Time,  that  creeps  with  such  silent  step 
O'er  marble  column  and  marble  floor, 
'  Points  his  shadowy  hand  to  decay, 

And  traces  there,  "'No  more,  no  more  !  " 


GOOD-NIGHT. 

MY  darling,  my  darling,  a  fond  good-night ! 
God's  angels  keep  thee  till  the  morning  light 
Breaks  over  the  headlands  and  over  the  sea, 
Bringing  health  and  hope  and  peace  to  thee. 

Good-night !     Now  glittering  afar 
In  yon  blue  heaven,  there's  many  a  star ; 
And  the  crescent  moon  sheds  he*-  golden  beams 
O'er  thy  repose  and  thy  midnight  dreams. 


AT  REST.  11-1 

Sweet  be  that  repose  !  and  may  thy  dreams 
Be  overshadowed  with  glimpses  and  gleams 
Of  the  river  of  life  and  the  heavenly  shore, 
Where  sorrow  and  pain  and  parting  are  o'er  ! 


AT    REST. 

ON  her  lonely  grave  how  softly  falls 

The  shimmering  light  of  the  crescent  moon, 

Like  a  mantle  of  glory  enshrouding  the  spot, 
And  deepening  its  mystical  gloom  ! 

Morn's  golden  light,  the  blaze  of  noonday  sun, 

.  The  song  of  birds,  the  busy  hum  of  bees, 
Nor  rush  of  waters,  nor  wave  of  woods, 

Nor  bloom  of  flowers,  nor  murmur  of  breeze, 

No  sound  from  this  life  and  its  wearying  strife, 

No  mortal  care  or  pain, 
No  voice  of  love,  nor  voice  of  grief, 

Can  waken  to  life  again. 


142  WHAT  THE  MOON  SAW. 

O'er  the  pulseless  heart  lie  the  folded  hands, 

rForever,  forever  at  rest ;  • 
While  the  mould  is  gathering  on  cheek  and  on  brow 

"Which  erst  our  lips  have  pressed. 

Life's  pain  all  o'er,  on  yon  shining  shore, 

Arrayed  in  robes  of  white, 
With  the  angel-barM,  at  God's  right  hand 

She  walks  in  love  and  li(jht. 


WHAT  THE  MOON  SAW. 

NIGHT  brooded  o'er  all  the  earth 

Like  a  mournful  sable  pall ; 
The  flowers  slept  even,  and  the  stars 

Shone  dimly  over  all ; 
While  through  the  shadows  my  vision  sought 

To  peer  beyond  the  narrow  wall 
That  girt  my  soul  with  invisible  bands, 

And  to  hear  the  invisible  fall 
Of  the  footsteps  of  angels  and  the  spirit-band 
That  come  and  go  from  the  spirit-land. 


WHAT  THE   MOON  SAW.  143 

Not  long  with  triumph  the  darkness  rode 

O'er  all  the  silent  world  ; 
For  the  moon  rose  up  from  the  eastern  hills, 

And  swiftly  and  quickly  hurled 
Into  night's  abyss  the  great  dark  cloud 

That  its  banner  had  all  unfurled, 
And  serenely  sailed  on  with  all  her  train, 
Till  her  broad  beams  girt  the  mighty  plain. 

In  all  her  beauty  she  ever  looked  down 

On  many  a  hidden  scene, 
And  never  paused  till  her  radiance  fell 

And  flashed  with  softer  gleam 
On  the  cottage  low  where  the  maiden  slept, 

And  kissed  her  in  her  dream ; 
While  she  glanced  on  the  dead  that  silently  sleep, 
No  more  to  waken,  no  more  to  weep. 

On  the  lake's  deep  bosom  -she  saw 

An  image  like  her  own  ;   ' 
And  tarried  there  till  the  rippling  waves 

With  reflected  glory  shone, 
And  soft  opaline  hues,  with  changeful  light, 

From  all  the  starry  dome  ; 


144  WHAT  THE  MOON  SAW. 

While  the  heart  of  the  rose  she  softly  kissed, 
And  stole  a  fragrance  it  never  missed. 

The  murderer  stayed  his  bloody  hand, 
And  with  fearing  glances  sought 

To  hide  underneath  the  flowery  sod 
The  ruin  that  he  had  wrought ; 

But  the  moon  shone  on  it  with  terrible  light, 
Till  the  ghastly  thing  seemed  fraught 

With  power  and  motion  and  life  renewed, 

Threatening  him  still  in  menacing  mood. 

And  the  moon  sailed  on,  and  sailed  away, 
And  high  in  the  heavens  rode  : 

While  the  prisoner  slept  in  his  lonely  cell, 
And  dreamed  of  summer  wood 

And  blossoming  hill  and  pleasant  vale, 
Where  the  odorous  pine-tree  stood  ; 

And  her  silver  beams  fell  with  tender  grace 

Around  and  across  his  dteaming  face. 

And  I  saw  her  track  on  the  mighty  sea, 
And  on  the  rock-bound  shore  : 

She  walked  the  mountain,  and  it  glowed 
With  mellow  radiance  o'er  ; 


LOST.  145 

And  tipped  the  rifting  clouds,  until  they  shone 
With  newer  beauty  all  her  own. 

But,  while  she  moved  so  calmly  on, 

The  whispering  winds  began  to  sigh, 

And  the  hills  looked  gray  ;  while  rosy  morn 
Unveiled  the  luminous  sky, 

And  the  god  of  day  quenched  her  paler  gleams 

In  the  glory  and  shine  of  his  dazzling  beams. 


LOST. 

I  BARTERED  my  soul  for  a  morsel  of  bread,  — 

There  was  none  to  cry  me  nay ; 
Ay,  bartered  my  soul,  while  all  my  peace  fled 

On  that  fatal,  fatal  day. 

To-day  I  sit  in  my  garnished  room 
With  my  books  and  paintings  rare  : 

But  shrouded  am  I  in  sorrow  and  gloom  ; 
And  Remorse,  as  a  guest,  sits  there. 
10 


146  A  DYING  HYMN. 

A  slanting  sunbeam  resplendent  creeps 

O'er  lilies  and  roses  combined ; 
And  sings  my  bird  in  his  golden-wired  cage, 

While  sadly  I  weep  in  mine. 

Waves  of  rich  music  are  swelling  high, 
Blent  with  the  harp's  sweeter  tone  ; 

While  my  heart  is  making  a  desolate  cry 
For  the  hours  that  are  dead  and  gone. 

Some  day  they'll  shroud  me  in  spotless  white, 
The  coffin-lid  close  o'er  my  breast, 

And  make  me  a  grave  'neath  the  emerald  turf, 
And  lay  me  away  to  rest. 


A   DYING  HYMN. 

O  SPIRIT  waiting  on  the  other  side  ! 

O  angel  with  snowy  wing  ! 
Ere  I  battling  sink  'neath  Death's  cold  tide, 

Let  me  His  praises  sing 


A   DYING  Ill'UN.  147 

Who  hath  led  my  trembling  steps 

Nigh  to  the  sacred  fount, 
Filled  with  his  sacred  blood  ; 

And,  ere  to  the  skies  I  mount, 

Proclaim  to  the  amazed  world 

The  glories  that  I  behold, 
Above  the  heavens  unfurled,  — 

The  streets  of  spotless  gold, 

Stretched  round  a  silver  sea, 

Around  the  great  white  throne, 
Where  in  dazzling  glory  dvvelleth  He 

Who  hath  all  our  sorrows  known ; 

Who  ransomed  our  souls  from  death : 

Then,  ere  I  mount  to  the  skies, 
Let  His  praises  roll  with  my  latest  breath 

Up  to  the  fields  of  paradise. 


148  AN  AUTUMN  DAY. 


AN  AUTUMN  DAY. 

THE  glint  of  yellow  sunshine  enveloped  all  the  har 
vest-fields  ; 

Beneath  the  reapers'  touch  the  ripe  grain  fell ; 
The  wild  bird  trilled  its  song  in  the  neighboring  haw 
thorn-tree  ; 

A  tiny  brook  twined,  murmuring,  through  the  for 
est-dell  ; 

• 

The  fresh  breeze  swayed  the  silken-tasselled  corn, 
And  wandered  idly  o'er  the  fragrant,  odorous  fields  ; 
Pausing  oft  to  toy  with  the  blossoming  rose, 
Scattering  the  dew-drops  from  its  glossy  leaves. 

Ah,  happy  morn  !  ah,  genial  summer-hours  ! 
Perished  all  your  brightness,  faded  all  your  bloom  : 
On  the  barren  hill-top  high  shines  the  yellow  sun  — 
Shines  with  ghastly  splendor  —  till  the  weary  day  is 
done. 


RAIN.  149 

All  my  hopes  are  withered,  as  withered  is  your  bloom ; 
Enshrouded  are  the  hours  in  heaviness  and  gloom  : 
In  all  life's  love  and  beauty  my  soul  it  hath  no  part ; 
For  a  grave  is  on  the  hillside,  a  grave  is  in  my  heart. 


RAIN. 

DRIP,  drip,  O  melancholy  rain  ! 

Through  all  the  silent  hour ; 
Fall,  softly  fall,  O  summer  rain  I 

On  bud  and  opening  flower ; 
On  sweet  wild  rose  and  star-wort  white  ; 
On  odorous  pink  and  daisy  bright ; 
On  fresh,  green  grass ;  on  clover  sweet ; 
On  tasselled  corn  and  waving  wheat ; 
'  On  singing  brook  as  it  rushes  by ; 
On  lakelets  deep  where  shadows  lie  ; 
On  forest  dense  where  the  branching  trees 
Droop  low  with  rain,  —  on  their  glossy  leaves 
Fall,  softly  fall,  with  dreary  sound ; 
Drip,  slowly  drip,  on  the  lowly  mound, 
Where  in  solemn  repose  we  ever  keep 
The  shrouded  dead  in  slumbers  deep. 


150  A   FRAGMENT. 


A  FRAGMENT. 

FOLD  lightly  over  him  the  sable  pall,  — 

A  great  soul  has  sought  its  rest ; 
Gently  let  the  nerveless  hands  fall 

Over  the  pulseless  breast ; 
Soft  my  mournful  music  swell 
In  dirge-like  tones  a  solemn  knell 
For  the  departed  soul,  whose  upward  flight 
Is  stayed  in  realms  of  endless  light. 

Open  wide  the  casement :  sun  and  breeze 

Disturb  not  his  sleep  ; 
Odors  faint  from  fragrant  fields 

Softly  round  him  creep. 
Sing,  bird  !  in  yonder  blackthorn-bush  ; 
In  the  hedges  pipe,  O  melancholy  thrush ! 
Gather  from  the  rose-tree  its  shining  blooms, 
From  the  nodding  cypress  its  velvet  plumes  ; 
Crown  with  amaranth  and  myrtle  his  cold,  white  brow; 
Breathe  no  tender  token ;  he  will  not  heed  thee  now : 


NOWHERE   TO   GO.  151 

Death  mysterious  has  gathered  in  his  fold 
The  casket  that  enshrined  a  soul  of  rarest  mould. 
So  close  the  coffin-lid,  and  bear  him  slowly  on, 
Life's  battle  all  fought,  its  victories  all  won. 


NOWHERE   TO   GO. 

ANGELS  of  mercy,  angels  of  light, 
Ranges  your  vision  o'er  this  pitiful  sight  ? 
Lost,  betrayed,  abandoned,  so  low, 
Angels  of  mercy,  with  nowhere  to  go  ! 

Out  in  the  night,  out  in  the  sleet, 
While  roll  the  curdled  waves  up  at  her  feet ; 
And  the  home-lights  glimmer,  and  softly  throw 
Pale  shades  on  her  form  with  nowhere  to  go. 

Her  yellow  hair  unbraided  hangs, 
While  clings  the  dampness  to  every  strand  ; 
And  cold  and  bitter  the  night-winds  blow 
Across  her  brow  that  hath  nowhere  to  go. 


152  NOWHERE   TO   GO. 

A  child  in  years,  innocent  and  fair 
As  spring's  sweet  blossoms  which  perfume  the  air 
In  her  young  heart  was  love's  first  glow  : 
Why  cast  her  forth  with  nowhere  to  go  ? 

See  !  —  white  hands  are  raised,  and  flutter  aloft ; 
While  pale  lips  lisp  a  prayer,  so  low  and  soft, 
That  the  angels  must  hear  as  they  peer  below 
On  her  in  darkness  with  nowhere  to  go. 

On  ear  attuned  to  love  harsh  words  fall ; 
Out  in  the  night  strange  voices  call ; 
While  high  dash  the  billows,  and  wildly  flow, 
As  if  to  embrace  her  with  nowhere  to  go. 

Hopeless  she  lingers  ;  the  lights  are  gone  ; 
While  the  heavy  hours  creep  slowly  on. 
O  angels  of  mercy  !  around  her  throw 
Your  sinless  robes,  that  hath  nowhere  to  go. 

Too  late,  too  late  !  the  hour  has  passed ; 
Life's  sands  run  low  ;  the  die  is  cast ; 
Weird  forms  glide  up  from  the  depths  below, 
Wildly  beckoning  her  that  hath  nowhere  to  go. 


ON  THE  BANK  OF  THE  PLATTE.  153 

One  fatal  leap,  the  dread  waves  roll 
Swift  and  high  on  the  sandy  shoal, 
Undisturbing  her  in  her  sleep  below, 
That  forth  was  cast  with  nowhere  to  go. 


ON  THE  BANK   OF  THE   PLATTE. 

THE  air  grows  mild ;  gentle  breezes  sweep 
Across  the  flower-gemmed  plains  ; 

While,  peeping  forth  in  emerald  tufts 
All  adown  the  sunny  lanes, 

The  velvet  grass  and  shining  buds 
Unfold  beneath  the  genial  rains. 

And  I  walk  on  the  river's  strand, 

And  list  to  the  solemn  waves 
That  roll  o'er  the  shifting  sand  ; 

While  the  silvery  water  laves 
The  banks  where  wild  roses  bloom, 
And  send  abroad  a  rich  perfume. 


154  ON  THE  BANK  OF  THE  PLATTE. 

From  the  tops  of  the  willow  and  poplar  trees 
A  meadow-lark  trills  forth  its  song 

In  bugle-notes  from  bank  to  bank, 
Which  die  away  in  echoes  long  ; 

And  all  sweet  sounds  of  hill  and  main 

Together  blend  in  harmonious  strain. 

A  rainbow  spans  the  ether  blue, 
Reflecting  in  the  shining  deeps  ; 

While  float  the  rifting  clouds  across, 
Or  piled  in  billowy  heaps 

O'er  the  distant  mount,  where  thunders  die 

Away  in  one  long,  lingering  sigh. 

And  onward  the  swift  river  sweeps, 

Winding  through  sunny  plains, 
Down  rocky  chasms  and  craggy  steeps, 

O'erleaping  the  glittering  chains 
Of  mountains  that  sleep  'neath  eternal  snows, 
While  on,  ever  on,  it  restless  flows. 

Ah,  beautiful  river  !  I  liken  thee 

To  the  struggling,  waiting  soul, 
Whose  flight  must  onward  and  upward  be 

To  reach  the  shining  goal 


TO  A  STAR.  155 

Where  the  angels  wait  at  the  golden  gate, 

And  backward  the  curtain  roll 
That  hides  from  our  vision  the  jasper  walls 
Of  the  city  eternal,  where  no  night  falls. 


TO   A  STAR. 

SHINE  on,  sweet  star  !  shine  on : 

The  moon  hath  hid  her  face  ; 
Yon  angry  mass  that  hangeth  up 

Veileth  her  gentle  grace  ; 
The  night- winds  blow  across  the  wold ; 

The  tide  rolls  on  the  shore ; 
High  it  beats  o'er  the  shifting  sands 

With  sad  and  sullen  roar. 

One  rift  breaks  in  the  clouds : 

'Tis  like  a  sapphire  band 
With  precious  jewels  studded  round, 

Gleaming  bright  and  grand. 
In  its  midst  thou  art  set, 

Surpassing  sweet  and  rare, 
Brighter  than  gem  in  regal  crown, 

Glistening  soft  and  fair. 


156  TO  A  STAR. 

Sad  is  my  soul,  sweet  star ! 

The  night-winds  blow  around : 
Sweep  they  from  the  hills  afar 

With  low  and  wailing  sound. 
The  sea  is  black  like  one  vast  plain, 

And  at  my  feet  doth  roll, 
And  beat  against  the  rocky  main 

Like  a  spirit  in  its  dole. 

Dost  pity  me,  pale  star  ? 

For  thou  hast  dimmer  grown  ; 
And  angry  clouds  arise  to  mar 

The  sapphire  of  thy  throne. 
Cold  raindrops  fall  upon  thy  brow  ; 

Upon  the  restless  sea  they  fall : 
Blacker  creep  the  shadows  now 

Around  the  gray  sea-wall. 

Oh,  shine  on  me,  pale  star ! 

Until  thy  radiant  beams 
Dispel  the  shadows  from  my  soul, 

The  spectre  from  my  dreams. 
Farewell,  sweet  star !  the  angels  now, 

That  dwell  in  worlds  of  lie^ht, 

o        *. 


TO  A   STAR.  157 

Downward  sweep  around  my  brow 
Their  pinions  of  snowy  white. 

For  on  my  spirit  a  calm  there  falls, 

On  the  restless  sea  a  calm ; 
The  winds  beat  about  the  ancient  walls, 

And  all  their  breath  a  balm. 
A  light  I  see  at  the  western  gate, 

That  shutteth  within  its  folds 
The  pearly  streets,  with  jasper  wrought, 

No  mortal  eye  beholds. 

Oh  !  dim  and  misty  is  all  the  earth ; 

Oh  !  bright  and  fair  is  heaven : " 
Only  flowers  that  perish,  and  hollow  mirth, 

Unto  this  life  are  given. 
Placid  the  sea  that  stretches  afar ; 

Oh  !  placid  the  silver  sea : 
Beyond  the  gleam  of  sun  or  star, 

Oh  !  bright  the  land  which  awaiteth  me. 


158  SPIRIT  OF  GRACE. 


SPIRIT   OF  GRACE. 

DESCEND,  sweet  spirit  of  grace  ! 

With  healing  balm  into  my  soul ; 
And  let  me  hide  my  ravished  face 

While  hideous  waves  around  me  roll, 

And  darkness  and  sin  encompass  me, 
Sorrow  and  one  jdrear  night : 

Oh !  let  me  not  thy  mercy  flee, 
Radiant  spirit  of  light ! 

Oh  !  guide  my  trembling  step 
As  it  presses  the  thorny  way, 

Till,  life's  pain  all  o'er,  its  tears  all  wept, 
I  wake  in  one  eternal  day. 


THE  BLOOD   OF  CHRIST.  159 


THE  BLOOD   OF  CHRIST. 

AROUND  me  there  floweth  a  river  ; 

Its  waters  are  black  and  cold  : 
Sweeping  up  in  icy  shiver, 

Unto  my  feet  they  fold. 

Unto  my  garments'  snowy  whiteness 

The  lapping  tide  leaps  up  ; 
But  above  an  angel  floats  in  brightness, 

Holding  a  golden  cup. 

With  eyes  tender  and  merciful, 

With  wings  of  snow,  it  bends  down, 

In  garments  of  glory  all  lustreful, 
Wearing  a  golden  crown. 

From  the  golden  cup  there  drippeth 

Many  a  crimson  drop  : 
One  into  the  cold  river  slippeth,  — 

Slippeth  soundless  and  soft. 


160  A    VISION. 

And  the  black  waves  whiten  into  glory 
As  high  around  me  they  swell ; 

While  back  the  angel  floats  all  swiftly 
The  old  sweet  story  to  tell,  — 

How  a  soul  is  crossing  the  dark  river, 
Redeemed  by  the  Saviour's  blood  ; 

And  the  wide  arch  of  heaven  doth  quiver 
With  music  that  rolls  like  a  flood. 


A    VISION. 

THE  cloudy  canopy,  that  all  day  has  hung 
Above  the  mountains  craggy  and  old, 

Floats  away  in  purple  and  crimson  robes 
Dyed  with  the  sunset's  gold. 

On  each  snow-capped  summit  gently  lingers, 

With  a  soft  yet  radiant  light, 
The  last  faint  gleams  of  the  departing  day, 

Blending  with  the  shadowy  night. 


A    VISION.  161 

Perhaps,  in  this  mystical  hour,  the  angels 
That  dwell  around  the  white  throne 

Breathe  words  of  sweet  peace  and  comfort 
To  the  soul  that  sorrows  alone. 

Methinks  I  hear  the  trail  of  their  garments, 

And  the  echoes  of  holy  strains ; 
See  the  shadowy  forms  of  the  spirit-band 

That  dwells  on  the  upper  plains. 

And  above  the  white  clouds  I  see 

What  might  be  the  jasper  walls, 
And  the  glitter  and  sheen  of  the  golden  streets, 

Where  no  night  ever  falls. 

No  more  on  my  earth-dimmed  vision 

Shall  fall  this  radiant  light, 
Till  the  angel  of  death  shall  waft  my  soul 

Beyond  the  shades  of  night. 
11 


1G2  DA  WK. 


DAWN. 

THE  mist  hangs  o'er  the  mountains, 

Transparent  and  light, 
The  distant  peaks  all  crowning 

With  veils  of  fleecy  white. 
Above,  the  gray  clouds  are  sailing, 

Tipped  with  a  rosy  hue ; 
While  through  their  deeps  are  peeping 

Long  belts  of  sunny  blue  ; 
And  on  the  plains  all  glittering 

Are  drops  of  shining  dew. 
The  lark's  clear  notes  are  blending 

With  the  musical  hum 
Tiny  insects  forth  are  sending, 

All  in  the  brightening  morn  ; 
While  gentle  breezes  are  roaming, 

Or  playing  hide-and-seek, 
With  the  glossy  leaflets  toying, 

Luring  the  violets  meek 


DA  WN.  1C3 

In  an  odorous  couch  low  sleeping 

Beside  the  hollow  rock, 
Under  which  the  streamlets  gliding 

The  echoes  seem  to  mock  ; 
And  the  sweet  wild  rose  is  blooming 

Beside  the  waxen  gem 
That  into  glad  life  is  springing 

In  many  a  hidden  glen  ; 
And  a  radiant  beauty  is  shrouding 

The  earth  and  sunny  sky, 
Like  the  far  and  faintest  echo 

Of  music  floating  by. 
Then  we  sit  in  the  mystic  gloaming, 

And  list  for  the  spirit-band 
That  on  heavenly  plains  are  watching, 

And  wait  on  the  golden  strand 
For  the  soul  that  is  slowly  passing 

On  to  their  brighter  land. 


164  NORA. 


NORA. 

ONCE  I  passed  a  village  sweet : 

Purple  hills  intwined  its  feet ; 

A  river  bound  it  with  one  great  stride. 

As,  lo  !  I  paused  in  the  summer-tide, 

Thinking,  perchance,  some  angel-eyes 

Might  glance  down  from  paradise 

Upon  this  spot,  glowing  that  day 

Among  the  massive  hills  away, 

Strolling  down  a  mossy  lane, 

Sweet  with  pansy  and  golden-fane, 

The  glory  of  earth,  the  glory  of  sky, 

Seemed  a  reflex  to  my  longing  eye 

Of  that  greater  glory  up  on  high. 

Then  plaintive  strains  I  loved  to  hear 

Of  olden  music  broke  on  mine  ear, 

Joining  my  voice  to  the  old-time  song, 

Singing,  methought,  with  an  angel-throng, 

Till  I  remembered  a  day  in  the  long-ago 

When  I  walked  these  fields  with  heart  asrlow. 


KORA.  1C5 

I  sang  to  the  skies  ;  I  sang  to  the  trees ; 
Crooned  I  low  to  the  crooning  breeze : 
Singing,  I  said,  "  O  nestling  town, 
Wearing  summer's  purple  crown  ! 
I  hear  your  brisk  and  busy  hum  ; 
I  see  your  shadows  go  and  come  ; 
And  softly  well  your  noontide  bells 
Under  the  sounding  echoes  swells, 
Clear  and  low,  soft  and  slow  ; 
Outward  flaunt  your  chimings  low  ; 
While  upward  creeps  the  golden  glow 
Of  the  noontide  sun  from  the  vale  below  ; 
And,  echoing  through  the  sounding  street, 
Lo  !  the  hurrying  footsteps  meet. 
From  the  church's  steeple  tall 
The  ring-necked  pigeon's  cooing  call 
Is  answered  from  the  mossy  eaves 
Where  the  twining  ivy  cleaves, 
And  in  quaint  and  antique  lines 
All  the  mouldering  pile  enshrines. 
Just  above,  the  roses  blow 
In  robes  as  white  as  the  living  snow ; 
Just  above,  the  violets  sweet 
Hide  their  clusters  at  my  feet, 


166  NORA. 

With  their  odors  faint  and  rare 
Scenting  all  the  balmy  air ; 
Just  above,  the  churchyard  lies, 
Where  straight  the  gleaming  shafts  arise 
Straight  and  tall  to  the  glowing  skies ; 
Round,  round,  the  river  whirls, 
Swift  and  deep,  in  eddying  curls, 
Silvering  the  banks  with  silver  pearls 
As  it  beats  and  moans  in  sounding  tones, 
Breaking  soft  its  flecking  foams 
Against  the  gray  and  mossy  stones, 
Till  in  calmness  its  crystal  water  meets 
A  lake  that  all  unrippled  sleeps 
Amid  the  shadows  long  and  gray, 
Clasped  around  the  radiant  day." 

Afloat  on  its  surface,  in  fine  array 
And  in  bridal  vesture,  the  lilies  lay ; 
While  down  from  the  heavens  the  roving  sun 
Kissed  their  bright  petals  one  by  one ; 
While  music  of  lapwing  and  drowsy  bee 
Stole  like  the  whir  of  a  distant  sea ; 
And  rose  the  sound  of  the  sobbing  pine 
In  the  noontide  air  like  a  sobbing  chime, 


NORA.  .       167 

And,  as  censer  swung  the  fields  among, 

Their  spicy  fragrance  far  outward  flung. 

And  on  this  clay,  hand  in  hand, 

Two  walked  up  the  emerald  strand, — 

By  the  river  walked,  and  under  the  pines, 

That  never  stilled  their  sobbing  chimes ; 

And  by  the  lake  where  the  lilies  white 

Uplifted  lay  in  the  golden  light, 

And  the  wild  convolvulus  in  clusters  twines 

Its  purple  bells  on  purple  vines. 

Oh !  Nora  was  fair  ;  oh  !  Nora  was  sweet 

As  the  purple  glorias  at  her  feet. 

But  Nora  was  proud,  Nora  was  cold, 

To  all  that  wooed  not  with  their  gold. 

The  lilies  she  twisted  into  a  crown  ; 

In  silken  threads  her  hair  hung  down,  — 

Black  it  hung  as  the  raven's  wing, 

Silky  and  soft  as  the  wild  lapwing. 

The  lilies  she  twined  around  her  brow, 

And  tossed  the  floss  about  her  now,  — 

The  floss  that  stole  the  purple  gleam, 

The  softer  glory  of  a  sunbeam  ; 

Her  eyes  that  shone  as  worlds  of  light 

Might  on  this  at  wan  midnight ; 


1G8  NORA. 

Luminous  and  deep  as  pool  asleep 
When  over  the  sun  pale  shadows  creep ; 
Liquid  and  soft  as  the  stars  up  aloft, 
That  midnight  vigils  keep  ; 
Graceful  as  the  bending  willow, 
Pliant  as  the  heaving  billow, 
Stately,  with  a  winning  grace, 
As  if  her  soul  indexed  her  face ; 
Pleasant  her  mien,  and  with  all  blent 
Was  courteous,  sweet,  and  kind,  content 
That  heaven  vouchsafed  such  a  friend 
Whose  soul  in  harmony  could  blend 
With  hers  in  the  gold  of  summer-tide. 
And  "  Ah,  'tis  sweet !  "  she  faintly  sighed  ; 
But  all  the  while  she  wished  away 
The  luckless  wight  that  came  that  day. 
White  his  brow  and  broad ; 
Stately  his  step  as  he  firmly  trod 
Under  his  feet  the  grasses  sweet,  — 
Under  his  feet  as  by  her  side  , 

He  walked  in  the  golden  summer-tide. 
He  plucked  the  lilies,  the  purple  vines, 
And  needles  sharp  from  the  velvet  pines, 
And  pinned  them  into  the  wild  bluebells 
Clustering  in  the  shady  dells. 


NORA.  169 

And  passionate  his  tones,  and  deep 
As  the  summer-winds  that  seek 
The  deepest  labyrinths  of  a  cave 
Winding  'neath  the  ocean's  wave. 
Said  he,  "  Nora,  my  love,  the  stars  above, 

That  constant  vigils  keep  ; 
The  moon  that  sails  like  a  white-winged  dove 

Up  through  the  amber  deep, 
And  saileth  east,  and  saileth  west, 

O'er  all  the  world  asleep  ; 
The  roving  sun  in  yonder  sky, 

That  gilds  the  morn,  that  gilds  the  eve ; 
The  river  that  sweeps  all  swiftly  by ; 

The  ivy  intwining  the  mossy  eaves  ; 
The  tide  that  rolls  out,  the  tide  that  rolls  in 
From  the  swelling  sea  in  unceasing  din, 
Day  unto  day,  night  unto  night ; 
The  seasons,  unfolding  their  robes  of  light,  — 
Are  not  more  constant,  O  Nora  sweet ! 
Than  thy  lover  kneeling  at  thy  feet. 
Wealth  I  have  none,  but  a  strong  right  arm 
That  will  be  thy  shield  in  life's  alarm, 
And  a  heart  that's  brave  in  its  love  for  thee. 
O  Nora !  look  up  and  answer  me." 


170  NORA. 

Pale  Nora  grew  :  the  lapwing  flew, 
And  screeched  out  a  dismal  note ; 
The  sweet  sun,  smote  by  a  cloud  afloat, 

Hid  in  its  thick  and  fleecy  fold ; 
The  river  swept  on  to  a  sunless  moat ; 

The  daisies  closed  up  their  eyes  of  gold. 
Oh  !  scornful  she  grew  ;  and  wildly  flew 

The  lapwing  up  to  the  cloud  ; 
The  wind  it  blew  through  the  sobbing  yew 

In  'plaining  sad  and  loud  ; 
And  unto  the  feet  of  Nora  sweet,  — 

Nora  the  rare  and  proud. 
One  moment  shone  in  her  midnight  eyes 

A  look  of  love  such  as  angels  wear  ; 
Then  scorn,  contempt,  and  cold  surprise, 

Came  from  Nora  the  proud  and  rare. 
"  Go,  base-born  !  from  my  sight  retire  ! 
Nor  strike  for  me  love's  ardent  lyre. 
See  these  gems  that  grace  my  silk  attire ! 
They  burn  and  sparkle  with  living  fire : 

Canst  bring  them  to  me  from  over  the  sea  ? 
If  not,"  she  cried,  "  retire  !  " 
Then  white  he  grew  as  a  Winding-sheet 
Wrapping  the  dead  in  eternal  sleep. 


NORA.  171 

All  anguished  his  looks,  but  haughty  his  step, 

As  he  strode  with  firmness  over  the  fields, 
As  a  ship  that  rides  one  moment  erect 

Before  to  the  tide  she  yields  ; 
And  the  sounding  swell  of  the  noontide  bell 
*   Had  hushed  its  clanging  peal ; 
And  Nora  had  torn  the  lily  crown 
From  the  silken  threads  hanging  adown, 

As  from  the  heart  she  tore  the  part 
That  should  have  been  its  lily  crown. 
He  fled  to  distant  lands,  and  sought 
The  wealth  that  with  it  honors  brought ; 
But  ever  saw  a  snow-white  hand 
Plucking  lilies  from  flossy  band  ; 
The  look  of  scorn,  contempt,  surprise, 
Flashing  from  her  midnight  eyes ; 
And  the  decayed  and  mossy  eaves 
Where  the  twining  ivy  cleaves  ; 
Heard  the  sounding  peal 
Of  a  bell  across  the  field, 
And  the  river's  gladsome  whirls 
Casting  forth  the  silver  pearls. 
"  Oh  bitter  remembrance  !  O  Nora  proud ! 

Ever  my  heart  must  beat  for  thee, 


172  NORA. 

Till  at  last  I  shall  sleep  in  my  winding-sheet 

Alone  by  the  desolate  sea !  " 
Thus  he  cried  to  the  mocking  tide 

That  ploughed  the  furrowed  lea. 
The  dazzled  world  at  her  proud  shrine 

Bowed  its  adoring  head, 
And  seasons  rolled  into  summer  prime  ; 

But  Nora  remained  unwed. 
Her  silken  hair  was  fading  out, 

From  her  midnight  orbs  the  light ; 
The  bloom  on  her  cheek  Time  put  to  rout, 

And  yellowed  its  marble  white  ; 
But  stately  her  step  with  stately  grace, 
And  proud  the  look  that  indexed  her  face 
As  she  saw  the  lilies,  the  purple  bells, 
Clustering  down  in  the  forest-dells, 
And  heard  the  ring-necked  pigeon's  call 
From  the  church's  steeple  tall, 
And  walked  the  fields  in  the  summer-tide 
That  the  river  bound  with  one  great  stride. 
But,  alone  in  her  pride,  alone  she  sighed 

Unto  the  blossoming  flower. 
The  lapwing  heard,  and  her  espied 

Up  in  his  windy  tower, 


NORA.  173 

And  shrieking  flew  from  the  sobbing  yew 

Unto  a  sunnier  bower. 
For  Nora  the  fair,  Nora  the  rare, 

Wept  for  her  lover  lost : 
Dead  leaves  she  plucked,  saying,  "  I'll  wear 

Among  the  folds  of  my  silken  floss 
These  withered  emblems  everywhere." 
She  plucked  from  her  bosom  the  rarest  pearls, 
And  flung  them  into  the  eddying  curls 

Of  the  river  that  hid  them  deep  amid 
The  fold  and  curl  of  its  restless  whirls, 

Crying,  "  Woe  is  me  !  over  the  sea 

My  lover  sailed  away. 
Now  dimmed  the  stars,  the  moonbeams  paled, 

And  the  glowing  fields  of  May. 
I  see  through  a  mist,  that  might,  I  wist, 

As  I  sing  my  mournful  lay, 
Blind  mine  eyes  to  the  radiant  skies, 

The  gold  of  a  summer-day. 
I'll  seek  my  lover  where  the  white  sea-plover 

Pipeth  unto  the  marsh  ; 
Where  sips  the  bee  from  the  honeyed  clover, 

And  the  raven  croaketh  harsh." 


174  PARTED, 

She  wandered  east,  she  wandered  west, 

O'er  many  a  vine-clad  shore, 
That  soothed  not  her  heart's  unrest, 

Beating  to  the  measures  of  "  Nevermore  ; 
Till  a  city  she  gained,  old  and  quaint, 
With  temples  upreared  to  some  holy  saint ; 

And  the  sea  it  rolled  round  the  city  old, 
E'en  to  the  feet  of  the  ancient  streets 
Swept  it  up  like  glittering  sheets, 
And  its  sounding  tide  far  and  wide 

Furrowed  the  fallow  lea ; 
And  the  lover  she  wept,  lo  !  there  he  slept 

Alone  by  the  desolate  sea. 


PARTED. 

SOFT  shone  the  southern  sun  ; 

Blue  shone  the  sky  ; 
Slow  flitting,  one  by  one, 

The  golden  hours  went  by. 


PARTF.D.  175 

Low  we  bowed  before  the  altar, 

As  priest  in  stole  of  white 
Said,  "  Until  death  doth  sever, 

I  these  two  unite." 

But  one  day  we  parted,  — 

One  sunny  summer  day : 
Now  I  wander  broken-hearted 

In  the  shadows  alway. 

That  was  long  ago  ;  but  never 

Shall  we  meet  again 
Under  the  blue  sky,  never 

Under  the  rain. 

And  I  linger  in  the  even 

When  the  pale  stars  shine, 
Looking  upward  to  heaven, 

Beyond  change  or  time, 

Thinking  of  a  greeting 

All  on  its  blessed  shore  ; 
Thinking  of  a  meeting 

Where  parting  is  no  more. 


176  DEAD. 


DEAD. 

How  cold  and  still  where  late  the  life-blood 

Surged  through  the  veins  in  crimson  tide ! 

How  pulseless  the  heart  that  beat  with  ambition 

And  high  hopes,  and  fluttered  at  the  coming 

Of  my  footstep  o'er  the  emerald  sward  ! 

On  the  brow  where  gentle  graces  throned  sat, 

There  is  no  mark  left  by  the  soul  that  struggled 

For  release  from  its  mysterious  tenement, 

But  a  smile,  that  the  angels  who  wafted 

Thy  pure  spirit  up  to  heavenly  plains 

Might  envy.     Thy  golden  hair,  that,  unconfined, 

Sweeps  down  in  shining  folds  across  thy  marbled  neck, 

And  o'er  thy  spotless  shroud,  lying  like 

Rippling  waves  all  on  thy  bier,  is  softly  stirred 

By  the  fragrant  winds  that  creep  through 

The  open  casement.    The  earth  its  fairest  aspect  wears, 

As  if  to  mock  thee  lying  there  so  cold  and  si  ill. 


DEAD.  177 

Outside,  the  red-winged  oriole  flaunts  his  plumage  gay, 

And  soars  into  the  blue  deep,  trilling  his  sweetest  song  ; 

While  the  oleander  blossoms  in  the  hawthorn  shade. 

The  timid  fawn,  thy  pet  and  plaything, 

Retires  not  now  at  my  approach, 

But  watches  with  its  great  beseeching  eyes 

For  the  coming  of  thy  footsteps  down  the  garden-walk. 

The  busy  world  keeps  up  its  masquerade  and  farce, 

Where  hearts  are  broken,  and  souls  bartered 

For  that  glittering  dross  that  men  call  gold. 

Through  the  sunny  summer-fields  I  walk  as  in  a  dream, 

Crushing  the  purple  daisies  'neath  my  feet,  mindful 

only 

Of  .the  hours  when  I  plucked  them  for  thy  pleasure. 
The  skiff  lies  moored  within  the  shadow 
Of  the  ancient  pine  that  overhangs  the  banks 
Of  the  lake  whose  glittering  surface 
Erst  was  rippled  by  the  course  it  made 
When  freighted  by  our  happy  hearts. 
Thou  wert  the  secret  link  that  bound  my  soul 
Unto  a  higher  life,  which  is  not  broken, 
But  drawn  out  in  greater  lengths,  that  reach 
Even  now  from  thine  eternal  home 

Down  to  me  stricken  and  dazed  with  grief. 
12 


178  DEAD. 

And  I  must  see  the  casket  that  enshrined 

So  fair  a  jewel  borne  from  me, 

And  shrouded  'neath  the  damp  and  mould  ; 

While  I  forevermore  shall  go  through  life 

Inwrapped  with  pain  and  grief 

That  death  hath  severed  this  my  earthly  bond. 

No  voice  of  mine  crying  up  to  God 

Can  call  thee  back,  that  art  among  the  angels ; 

And  so  my  soul  yearns  for  gentle  patience 

To  infold  me  like  a  white-winged  dove, 

Until  I,  too,  shall  shrouded  sleep, 

And  summer-winds  a  requiem  keep, 

And  daisies  bloom,  and  forest-flowers, 

And  genial  sun,  and  gentle  showers, 

Fall  on  my  grave  through  the  summer-hours. 


THE  MORNING-GLORY.  179 


THE  MORNING-GLORY. 

ONE  day  I  sat  within  my  room, 

All  sick,  and  bowed  with  grief: 
The  sound  of  rain  fell  on  my  heart 

As  drops  on  the  withered  leaf ; 

And  the  winds  made  moan,  and  the  winds  made  sigh, 
Like  a  human  heart  in  its  desolate  cry : 
It  beat  at  the  pane,  with  the  raindrops  beat, 
And  stole  like  a  wail  round  the  dead  in  their  sleep. 

The  sky  was  heavy,  the  sky  was  gray ; 

And  darkly  lowered  the  clouds : 
They  shut  out  the  sunshine,  they  shut  out  the  blue, 

And  hung  o'er  the  mountains  in  watery  shrouds, 
And  clung  to  the  hills,  and  clung  to  the  river, 
And  dropped  their  mists  where  the  aspens  quiver ; 
They  bent  o'er  the  plains,  and  shut  from  my  view 
The  nodding  harebells  purple  and  blue. 


180  THE  MORNING-GLORY. 

Alone  in  my  grief  with  the  mournful  winds, 
And  the  drip,  the  drip,  of  the  mournful  rain, 

And  the  shrouding  mists,  that  shut  me  out 
From  view  of  mountain,  or  view  of  plain. 

'Neath  my  casement  one  flower  bloomed  alone  : 
On  it  the  tempest  had  beaten,  and  the  falling  rain ; 

But  it  brightly  bloomed  and  brightly  shone 
As  the  nodding  bluebells  on  the  plain. 

Its  tints  were  pale,  at  the  petals  pale, 

But  deepened  into  royal  purple, 
With  the  faintest  pink  on  its  delicate  edge, 

And  creeping  round  its  velvet  circle. 

'Mid  the  winds  that  beat,  and  the  rains  that  fell, 

All  day  it  bloomed  in  sweetness, 
And  shone  like  a  star  through  the  desolate  hours, 

And  drooped  its  head  in  meekness, 

Till  the  storm  passed  away,  and  one  sunbeam 

Tarried  on  the  hills  alone, 
And  the  rosy  clouds  in  rosy  mass 

Above  the  mountains  shone. 


OUANQS8. 

One  parting  glance,  its  velvet  folds 
Beneath  the  pale,  the  petals  pale  : 

It  bloomed  no  more,  but  shrank  to  death 
Underneath  a  leafy  veil. 

But  I  saw  a  moral  in  its  brief,  bright  life, 

And  in  its  pleasant  ending, 
And  prayed  that  my  dreary  day  be  fraught 

With  goodness  and  virtue,  blending 
With  a  hopeful  trust  through  its  perilous  way, 
That  at  last  shall  end  in  eternal  day. 


CHANGES. 

A  MILLIOK  stars  hung  in  the  sky ; 

A  million  flowers  bloomed  on  the  earth ; 
A  thousand  voices  went  whispering  by  ; 

A  thousand  souls  struggled  into  birth. 

Thousands  lay  dead  on  the  battle-field  ; 

Thousands  languished  on  beds  of  pain ; 
A  thousand  souls  went  out  in  the  night, 

As  millions  swelled  on  the  upper  plain. 


182  CHANGES. 

A  million  woes  struck  a  million  hearts : 
O  God  !  in  the  dank  and  cheerless  night 

A  million's  honor  was  sold  in  the  marts, 
As  millions  struggled  towards  the  light. 

A  million  changes  rang  round  the  world ; 

o  o  * 

The  sea  rolled  over  its  million  graves, 
And  from  its  bosom,  threatening,  hurled 
A  million  surging,  seething  waves. 

O  God  !  in  the  night  raise  a  million  souls, 
Passing  away  o'er  the  soundless  tide, 

Sinking  in  quicksands,  sinking  in  shoals, 
That  stretcheth  'neath  them  far  and  wide, 

O  Father  of  mercy  !  raise  them  high,  — 
High  to  the  land  'bove  the  starry  dome ; 

And,  ye  guardian  angels  wandering  nigh, 
Oh  !  bear  these  million  spirits  home. 


VAIN.  183 


IN    VAIN. 

IN  vain  for  me  the  earth  is  bright ; 

In  vain  for  me  the  soft  sunbeam 
Sheds  on  the  earth  a  golden  light ; 

In  vain  for  me  its  palest  gleam ; 

In  vain,  in  vain,  the  cool  wind  sweeps 

Across  the  ancient  wold ; 
In  vain  for  me  the  moonbeam  sleeps 

In  faint  and  shadowy  fold ; 

Oh  !  all  in  vain  the  roses  bloom 

Within  my  garden-bower : 
For  white  and  cold  through  the  misty  gloom 

Cometh  to  me  the  hour 

When  I  saw  her  dead.     The  rosy  Morn 
Her  banner  hung  across  the  sky : 

Its  folds  were  crimson,  and  wrought  upon 
With  amber  and  purple  dye. 


184  IN  VAIN. 

Silent  she  lay  in  her  snowy  shroud ; 

* 

Upon  her  lip  a  smile  : 
'Twas  like  a  moonbeam  hid  in  cloud, 
But  shining  all  the  while. 

The  cloud  was  death :  oh  !  nevermore 

By  yonder  restless  sea ; 
Ah  !  nevermore,  when  the  moonbeams  pour 

Their  silver  flood  on  me,  — 

Shall  I  pause  to  pluck  the  sea-flower  white, 

Lured  by  the  creeping  tide, 
Or  watch  with  her  the  gleaming  light 

Upon  the  ocean  ride. 

O  sea  !  dreamless  within  the  sound 
Of  thy  melancholy  sweeping  plaint 

She  sleepeth  now,  in  wrapped  around 
With  memories  like  a  saint. 

But  now  on  thy  shores,  oh !  not  in  vain 
Does  the  sunbeam  gild  the  cloud  : 

Swell,  restless  sea !  thy  high  refrain 
Like  an  anthem  deep  and  loud. 


72V    VAIN.  185 

For  behold  yon  setting  sun ! 

Behold  yon  western  sky, 
With  its  crimson  glory,  sweeping  down 

Where  the  purple  masses  lie  ! 

Behind  it  a  city  there  lies  : 

In  its  midst  she  dwelleth  now, 
With  a  daze  of  glory  in  her  eyes, 

A  crown  upon  her  brow. 

She  heareth  me  not,  she  seeth  me  not, 

As  she  walks  by  the  silver  sea  : 
Her  robes  are  white,  all  lustrously  wrought  j 

And  their  lustre  falls  on  me. 

Methinks  her  sweet  music  rings 
Hiq;h  through  the  arch  of  heaven : 

o  o 

Faint  echoes  of  the  song  she  sings 
Steal  through  the  gates  of  even. 

O  pearly  gates  that  shut  me  out ! 

O  wonderful  streets  of  gold  ! 

• 
O  placid  sea  that  Avinds  about 

In  many  a  shining  fold  ! 


186  TUT   WILL  BE  DOSE. 

I  would  that  I  dwelt  within  your  light, 
In  the  midst  of  the  city  fair 

That  stretcheth  so  far  beyond  my  sight ; 
And  she  awaiteth  me  there. 


THY    WILL    BE    DONE. 

Low  unto  thy  will  I  seek  to  bow, 
Father,  dwelling  up  in  heaven  ; 

Though  sorrows  encompass  me  now, 
As  I  walk  through  the  mists  of  even. 

Yet  my  soul  fain  would  wander 

Up  to  thy  realms  of  light, 
As  all  desolate  I  ponder. 

Through  my  life's  dreary  night, 

Waiting  for  an  eternal  dawning 
To  break  upon  the  fields  of  day, 

Where  night  is  never,  nor  morning, 
Up  in  the  heavens  away. 


COME  BACK.  187 


COME    BACK. 

COME  back  to  me,  O  lost,  lost  hope  ! 

How  the  night- winds  moan  on  the  desolate  shore ! 
Oh  !  come  back  to  me,  my  faith  and  trust ; 

Or  have  ye  fled  me  forevermore  ? 

• 

My  frail  bark  lies  stranded  on  the  sluggish  tide, 

Its  sails  all  rent  by  the  reckless  storm ; 
And  shadowy  hands  are  beckoning  me  : 

I  cannot  wait  for  the  coming  morn. 
The  heavens  are  black  with  portentous  clouds  : 

I  know  that  behind  them  the  stars  still  shine  7 
But  through  their  dread  darkness  there  gleams   no 
light 

Into  this  desolate  heart  of  mine. 


188  A   THUNDER-STORM. 


A  THUNDER-STORM. 

THE  clouds  are  piled  in  the  western  sky 
Like  the  mountains'  rugged  rifts ; 

While  the  deepening  thunder  rolls 
Adown  the  rocky  cliffs  ; 

• 

And  hills  repeat  the  echoes  low 

Till  they  die  away  on  the  plains  below. 

Athwart  the  sky,  athwart  the  clouds, 

The  lightnings  zigzag  flash 
Like  angry  bolts  from  heaven  sent ; 

And  I  list  to  the  awful  crash, 
And  tumble  and  roll  into  chasms  deep, 
Of  rocks  that  are  rent  from  the  mountain  steep. 

The  forest  monarch  uprooted  lies, 

Of  all  its  glory  shorn  ; 
The  tempest  hurls  with  resistless  force 

The  mighty  flood  adown 


KOSES.  189 

The  river's  bed,  whose  angry  surge 
Rises  high  above  the  storm's  own  dirge. 

But  my  soul  soars  aloft  above  the  din 

To  the  peaceful,  distant  shore 
Where  the  angels  wait  to  let  me  in, 

And  wait  and  wait  evermore, 
With  raiment  white,  and  harps  of  gold, 
Singing  a  song  that  is  never  old. 


ROSES. 

ROSES  red,  roses  white, 
Gather  for  the  bride  to-night 
Cast  them  loving  at  her  feet, 
Roses  red  and  roses  sweet. 

Roses  red,  roses  white, 
Gather  for  the  dead  to-night : 
Bind  them  to  the  frozen  feet, 
Roses  red  and  roses  sweet. 


190  POSES. 

Let  the  snowy  clusters  twine  ; 
Let  the  glowing  red  enshrine 
The  marble  pallor  of  the  face  : 
Lift  the  hands  with  gentle  grace, 
Folded  in  unbroken  rest 
O'er  the  cold  and  pulseless  breast. 

Pluck  the  fragrant  buds  of  May, 
Violets  sweet  and  tulips  gay ; 
While  the  flooding  light  of  day 
Dies  upon  the  hills  away. 

Roses  red  and  roses  white 

Gather  for  the  bride  to-night : 

Let  the  fragrant  buds  intwine, 

Let  the  lily-blooms  enshrine, 

The  midnight  hair,  the  brow  of  snow : 

The  roses  red  her  cheeks  outglow. 

Oh !  roses  red  and  roses  white 
Gather  for  the  dead  to-night : 
Let  the  waxen  hands  infold 
The  daisies'  smile,  the  lilies'  gold. 


THOU  DIDST  FORGET.  191 

Wed  the  bride,  bury  the  dead, 

Roses  white  and  roses  red  ! 

They  will  wither,  they  will  bloom, 

While  foldeth  the  dreary  night  in  gloom 

Over  the  bride  and  over  the  tomb. 


THOU   DIDST  FORGET. 

ALAS  !  thou  didst  forget 

That  day  long  ago 
When  under  the  limes  we  met, 

Beneath  the  fervid  glow 
Of  Orient  skies,  and  by  the  sea  : 
Thou  didst  forget,  —  ah,  me  ! 

Thy  cheek  was  like  the  rose  ; 

Thy  midnight  hair  hung  down  ; 
White  lilies  clasped  it  close, 

And  wreathed  it  like  a  crown. 
Thy  hand  that  lay  in  mine,  love, 
Fluttered  like  a  prisoned  dove. 


192  THOU  DIDST  FORGET. 

The  sea  it  rolled  away 

With  many  a  tuneful  plaint ; 

Soft  the  moonlight  lay, 
Like  robe  upon  a  saint, 

Over  the  limes.     Ah  me 

That  thou  didst  forget 
Under  Orient  skies  and  by  the  sea ! 

I  would  we'd  never  met ! 

You  taught  me  to  forget. 

Under  the  limes  we  walked, 

Under  the  limes. 
The  wind  it  frisked,  and  mocked 

The  river's  chimes : 
I  heard  it  on  the  hills  afar, 
Above  where  gleamed  the  evening  star. 

Oh  !  happy  was  my  heart  that  night 

Under  the  limes  ; 
The  moonbeams  quivered  white 

Under  the  limes  ; 

Down  in  the  fields  the  corn  was  ripe  ; 
Across  the  meadows  the  call  of  the  snipe 


THOU  DIDST  FORGET.  193 

I  heard.     The  distant  swell, 

The  soft,  mysterious  chimes, 
Of  the  winds  adown  the  dell, 

Walking  under  the  limes, 
And  the  subtle  essence  of  many  blooms 
Yielding  all  their  rich  perfumes, 

Came  to  my  senses, —  ah  me, 

The  silver  chimes 
Of  the  river  and  the  sea, 

Under  the  limes ! 
But  I  would  we'd  never  met ! 
For  you  taught  me  to  forget 

The  sweetest  dream  of  all  my  youth 

Under  the  limes : 
My  belief  in  goodness,  truth, 

Listening  to  the  chimes 
Of  the  river  and  the  sea, 
You  taught  me  to  forget,  —  ah  me  I 

13 


194  THE   WATCH-TOWER. 


THE  WATCH-TOWER. 

THE  'wildering  gleams  of  her  midnight  hair 

Were  hanging  unto  her  feet 
As  with  agile  step  she  clomb  the  stair 

Her  mid-day  tryst  to  keep  : 
The  sun  hung  high,  and  his  reddening  glare 
Purpled  the  strands  of  her  midnight  hair. 

The  woods  were  aflame  with  red  and  gold ; 

The  ripened  harvest  clung 
O'er  the  russet  fields  in  many  a  fold  ; 

And  the  ripened  berries  hung 
And  hid  in  clusters  'mong  the  brown, 
The  red-brown  leaves  a-drooping  down. 

The  great  salt  sea  that  never  sleeps, 

It  lay  like  a  glassy  plain  ; 
It  curled  round  the  rocks  that  rose  in  heaps 

High  "gainst  the  sandy  main  ; 


THE    WATCH-TOWER.  195 

s 

Its  dash  and  swell  came  like  a  knell,  — 
The  distant  knell  of  a  tolling  bell. 

The  tower  was  round  and  iron-bound, 

And  fettered  with  gyves  of  steel : 
A  climbing  rose  with  clusters  crowned 

The  gyves  of  iron  and  steel, 
As  the  stair  she  clomb  in  breathless  haste, 
Scanning  the  salt  sea's  glassy  waste. 

And  the  red  sun  shone  as  a  snowy  sail 

She  descried  in  the  distance  afar  : 
Her  blushing  cheek  told  its  own  love-tale ; 

Her  eyes,  like  the  morning  star, 
Seemed  the  distance  to  pierce ;  and  her  raven  hair 
Fell  at  her  feet  as  she  clomb  the  stair. 

The  topmost  point  of  the  tower  she  reached : 

Her  garments  were  like  the  snow 
When  it  drifted  lies  in  billowy  heaps 

Beneath  the  moon's  pale  glow ; 
The  breeze  it  tossed  and  twisted  the  floss, 
And  fanned  the  blush  her  cheek  across. 


196  THE    WATCH-TOWER. 

On  came  the  ship  in  track  of  foam  ; 

While  leaped  the. dolphin  high  : 
The  salt  sea  looked  as  if  newly  sown 

With  belts  of  sapphire  sky. 
O'er  russet  fields  a  dove  she  hailed 
As  the  ship  sailed  on,  and  faster  sailed. 

The  dove  wheeled  down  where  the  roses  crowned 

The  gyves  of  iron  and  steel : 
Around  his  throat  she  softly  bound 

A  tiny  silken  reel 

All  woven  and  wound  with  her  midnight  hair, 
That  reached  her  feet  as  she  cloinb  the  stair. 

Up  the  bird  floated,  —  up,  —  till  a  cloud 

Blackened  the  great  salt  sea  ; 
And  the  furious  tide  rolled  like  a  shroud 

All  over  the  sandy  lea ; 
The  tower  it  rocked ;  the  wind  made  talk 
With  the  waves  that  answered  with  a  mock. 

And  round  the  tower  the  sea-bird  flew  ; 

The  ship  it  sailed  on  ; 
The  wind  it  raved  and  wildly  blew, 

And  shrieked  to  the  rising  storm  ; 


THE    WATCH-TOWER.  197 

The  great  ocean  hissed  and  roared  and  foamed 
Around  the  tower  that  creaked  and  groaned. 

Her  midnight  hair  was  wet  with  spray  ; 

Her  snow-white  garments  too : 
But  still  the  ship  it  sailed  away, 

And  the  wind  it  blew  and  blew, 
And  the  black  clouds  bent  with  withering  frown, 
And  the  red  leaves  fell  with  the  russet  brown ; 

And  the  tide  it  whirled,  and  the  tide  it  curled. 

But  the  lady  in  the  tower, 
That  clomb  the  stair  with  midnight  hair 

Clasped  with  the  running  flower, 
She  saw  the  ship  ;  its  sails  were  rent : 
She  saw  the  dove  ;  its  strength  was  spent. 

She  heard  the  breakers ;  she  heard  the  roar 

Around  the  mountains  in  the  sea ; 
She  saw  the  tide  plough  the  sandy  shore, 

And  furrow  the  sandy  lea  : 
The  uprooted  trees  it  quick  gulped  down ; 
While  the  sky  looked  on  with  withering  frown, 


198  THE   WATCH-TOWER. 

And  poured  its  flood,  and  shot  out  its  fire, 
And  rolled  its  thunder  over  the  strand, 

And  rose  and  fell  with  fitful  ire 

In  vengeful  mood  all  round  the  land. 

The  ship  it  plunged  on  like  a  huge  bird  shorn, 

With  broken  spars  and  white  sails  gone. 

On  the  ocean  a  speck,  that  might  be  a  gull, 

Or  a  mermaid  combing  her  hair. 
Not  a  sound  was  heard  'mid  the  ominous  lull 

That  fell  on  the  earth  and  air, 
Till  the  black  tower  swayed,  and  the  gyves  of  steel 
Bent  to  the  blast  like  a  bending  reel. 

God  save  our  souls  !  the  ship  it  is  doomed ; 

And  ocean-spirits  wait 
To  fold  beneath  a  sunless  tomb, 

And  glut  and  fatten  and  sate, 
And  sport  with  the  ship  as  it  goeth  down, 
While  the  skies  look  on  with  withering  frown. 

The  timbers  part  with  a  creak  and  groan ; 

Wildly  the  sea-spirits  call ; 
The  speck  it  rideth  'mid  the  white  foam 

That  riseth  like  a  wall 


THE    WATCH-TOWER.  ]00 


Around  the  breakers,  and  round  them  it  flies 
'Mid  bolts  that  rend  the  frowning  sides. 


Oh  the  tiny  boat !  it  breasteth  the  storm  : 

It  must  be  an  angel  bright 
Sits  at  the  helm,  guiding  it  on, 

With  face  like  the  morning  light ! 
No  :  'tis  the  maiden  fair  with  midnight  hair, 
With  garments  of  snow,  that  clomb  the  stair. 

With  a  shriek  and  a  moan  the  ship  goes  down  ; 

Loud  the  breakers  roar. 
Atop  of  the  billows,  atop  of  the  foam 

That  sweeps  from  the  inland  shore, 
The  white  maid  sits  :  her  hair  it  dips 
In  the  salt  sea-foam  that  from  it  drips. 

To  a  broken  spar  'mid  the  white  sea's  surge 

There  clingeth  a  manly  form  ; 
While  beat  and  roll  like  a  terrible  dirge 

Weird  spirits  of  the  storm, 
And  swell  and  call,  and  call  and  swell, 
And  beat  and  beat,  like  a  tolling  bell. 


200  THE    WATCH-TOWER. 

But  over  the  swell,  the  surge  and  swell, 

The  small  craft  rideth  fast : 
Lo  !  now  there  pealeth  the  watch-tower  bell ; 

And  its  brazen  tongue  doth  cast 
All  over  the  sea  a  brazen  sound, 
Rocking  the  tower  with  iron  bound. 

Steady  at  helm  !  while  the  merciless  sea, 

Striving  with  might  and  main, 
Tearing  and  roaring  in  maddest  glee, 

Shrieketh  out  in  its  maddest  pain  : 
Ah !  a  hand  it  flutters  ;  pale  lips  mutter 
A  name  alone  the  waves  ne'er  utter. 

And  the  fluttering  hand  drags  the  stiffened  form 

Oh,  the  tiny  boat  rides  fast ! 
Down  from  the  tower  and  through  the  storm 

The  brazen  bell  doth  cast 
Its  brazen  sound  all  over  the  land ; 
And  the  sea  ploughs  up  the  ancient  strand. 

Saved,  O  God !  by  a  brave,  true  soul ! 

An  angel  guided  it  on  ! 
Now  down  from  the  tower  there  oft  doth  roll 

The  sound  of  the  maiden's  song ; 


A   MIDNIGHT  DRKAM.  201 

And  the  roses  twine,  and  the  red  sunshine 

Flashes  soft  on  the  ocean's  brine, 
Purpling  the  strands  of  her  raven  hair 
As  with  agile  step  she  climbs  the  stair. 


A  MIDNIGHT   DREAM. 

IN  my  midnight  dreams  methought  again  I  trod 
The  pleasant  paths  where  my  childish  feet  so  oft  had 

strayed. 
Again  I  wandered  by  the  placid  lake  where  all  day 

long 

The  birds  wheeled  and  circled,  and  carolled  forth 
Their  sweetest  songs  ;  and  where  the  mighty  forest- 
trees, 

Whose  waving  tops  my  vision  scarce  could  scan, 
Mirrored  themselves ;  while  through  their  glossy  foli 
age 

Long,  slanting  sunbeams  resplendent  crept. 
Again  for  me  the  wild  rose  bloomed 
With  a  sweetness  no  other  roses  ever  had ; 
Again  the  purple  violet  and  clover-blooms 


202  A  MIDNIGHT  DREAM. 

With  careless  hand  I  plucked  :  and  in  my  dream 

I  heard  the  sound  of  bells  stealing  soft  upon  the  morn 
ing  air ; 

And,  as  my  wont,  my  way  I  wended 

To  the  little  church  where  the  pastor  of  the  flock 

Jn  simple  language  told  of  One  who  died 

To  save  an  erring  world. 

Behind  the  church  reposed  in  death's  long  sleep 

My  ancestors,  —  those  who,  .with  bold,  undaunted 
front, 

Quailed  not  at  danger,  but  who,  with  deathless 
faith 

In  God,  the  mighty  ocean  crossed, 

That  they  might  worship  him  in  peace. 

Ah,  heroes  and  conquerors  in  Life's  fierce  battle ! 

Are  ye  not  angels  now,  where  before  the  throne  in 
heaven 

Ye  worship  Him  both  day  and  night  ? 

Still  I  dreamed  on,  and  fancied  in  my  dreams 

That  father,  mother,  sister,  brother,  all  were  there ; 

And,  as  of  old,  —  with  smiles  and  gentle  words, 

And  tones  of  love,  that  so  beguile 

Our  youthful  hearts,  —  with  me 

They  still  pursued  life's  journey,  pausing  oft 


DECORATION-DAY.  203 

To  pluck  the  sweetness  from  its  flowers, 
Lingering  longest  where  the  sunshine  lingered. 

Ah  me  !  I  awoke.     Was  it  but  a  dream, 
That  in  the  still  night  the  God  of  all  love 

Sent  an  angel  to  cheer  me,  and  bid  me  look 

From  this  sorrowful  life  to  his  mansions  above  ? 


DECORATION-DAY. 

WE  mourn  a  nation's  dead  to-day,  — 

A  nation's  dead : 
O  Father  in  heaven  away ! 

Around  us  spread 
A  mantle  of  peace,  till,  like  a  sea, 
Our  souls  unite  in  praise  to  thee. 

With  the  sweetest  blooms.of  May, 

Clusters  of  roses  red 
We'll  softly  wreathe  to-day 

Over  our  nation's  dead  ; 
While  the  muffled  sound  of  the  rolling  drum 
Mingling  falls  with  the  booming  gun. 


204  DECORATION-HYMN. 

O'er  these  sacred  mounds  let  an  anthem  swell 

For  the  nation's  dead, 
Till  the  echoes  roll  o'er  hill  and  dell, 

And  earth  and  sky  seem  wed, 
And  one  grand  anthem  break  o'er  the  sea, 
Till  worlds  unite  in  praise  to  Thee. 


DECORATION-HYMN. 

ROUND  the  graves  of  these  heroes  in  spotless  glory 
We'll  lovingly  twine  Spring's  brightest  bloom : 

The  infant,  the  youth,  the  aged  and  hoary. 
Slow  passing  on  to  the  wide-yawning  tomb, 

Singing  praises  to  God  that  peace  it  now  floweth, 
Like  a  white,  spotless  sea,  all  over  the  land  ; 

Till  far  through  the  wide  arch  of  heaven  it  pealeth, 
And  the  echoing  strains  reach  the  angel-band. 

In  the  tomb  slept  our  Saviour :   now,  the  Holy  of  ho 
lies, 

At  the  right  hand  of  God  he  sits  on  the  throne, 
And  lovingly  bends  from  his  radiant  glories 

To  whisper  to  mortals,  "  Your  sorrows  I've  known." 


THE   VOICE  OF  NIGHT.  205 

Scatter  blossoms,  sing  praises ;  for  Jesus  in  heaven 
Received  their  bright  spirits  as  they  left  the  cold  clay, 

And  swift  exit  made  through  the  dim  gates  of  even 
Up  to  fair  fields  of  light  beyond  earth  away. 


THE  VOICE   OF  NIGHT. 

THE  sweetest  buds  of  May 

Shine  on  the  fields  ; 
The  glowing  light  of  day 

Unto  night  yields. 

The  moon  she  riseth  now 
Up  from  the  eastern  sea : 

With  faint,  placid  glow 
Her  beams  fall  on  me. 

The  stars,  like  gems  of  light, 

Glitter  far  away : 
Out  in  the  solemn  night 

Voices  seem  to  say,  — 


206  THE   VOICE  OF  NIGHT. 

Chanting  to  the  hills 

Around  the  ancient  sea, 
Chanting  to  the  fields 

Beyond  the  emerald  lea,  — 

"  There  is  a  land  of  beauty, 
There  is  a  world  so  bright, 

Where  spirits  dwell  in  glory 
Beyond  mortal  sight. 

"  The  bending  heavens  hide  it ; 

The  soft,  glimmering  moon 
Holds  not  a  radiance  like  it,  — 

Brighter  than  sun  at  noon." 

Now  the  night  grows  dark  and  deeper ; 

The  sea  wails  aloud  : 
Pale  the  midnight  sleeper 

Rises  in  his  shroud ; 

For  he  hears  Death  a-calling  ; 

Beholds  a  spectre  pale 
Out  of  the  blackness  rising, 

Out  of  the  shadowy  vale  ; 


THE    V01UE   OF  NIGHT.  207 

And  the  angels  ever  chanting, 

Floating  o'er  the  fields,  — 
Chanting  to  the  darkness, 

Waiting  till  the  peals 

Of  echoing  music  break  ' 

Over  the  plains  above, 
And  all  the  earth  it  wake 

To  joy  and  light  and  love. 

And  on  the  dead  and  living 

The  risen  sun  shines  ; 
But  the  angels,  ever  chanting 

Up  in  holy  climes, 

Wave  their  snowy  pinions, 

And  tune  their  harps  of  gold ; 
And  the  living  weep,  while  the  dead  are  asleep 

Under  the  damp  and  mould. 


208  IN  THE  LONG-AGO. 


IN  THE  LONG-AGO. 

SOFT  gleamed  the  evening  star 

In  yon  blue  dome  ; 
Sailed  the  white  moon  afar, 

And  on  the  sea  shone  ; 
High  rolled  the  tide,  higli  on  the  shore, 
And  beat  on  the  sands  with  sullen  roar. 

On  the  hillside  the  purple  daisies  slept, 

And  slept  the  pule  sea-flower  ; 
Wan  the  lilies  looked,  as  if  they  wept 

All  in  night's  still  hour  ; 

Gently  sighed  the  winds  across  the  lone  wold, 
Where  rested  the  moonbeam  in  shadowy  fold. 

On  the  sands  we  paused,  then  parted  evermore  : 
Now  I  wander  by  the  gray  sea  alone. 

The  tide  rolls  high  on  the  sandy  shore  ; 

The  white  moon  sails  through  yon  blue  dome, 

On  the  lonely  wold  soft  rest  her  beams  ; 

'Neath  the  boiling  flood  the  sea-flower  gleams. 


UPON   THE  HEIGHTS.  209 

But  the  sweet  star  of  eve  it  slimes  not  for  me, 
Nor  soft  creeps  the  wind  across  the  lone  lea  : 
But  a  ship  I  discern  far  out  on  the  sea  ; 
It  sails  o'er  the  breakers  like  a  white-plumed  bird  ; 
It  passes  the  sand-bar  like  a  spectre  unheard. 
Death  sits  at  the  helm,  moveless  and  grim : 
Undaunted  I'll  enter  to  welcome  him. 


UPON   THE   HEIGHTS. 

UPON  hoary  heights  I  stand : 
Below  me  winds  a  stream  ; 

Swift  and  broad  and  grand 
Its  silver  waters  gleam 

Amid  plains  ancient  and  gray, 

With  beauty  girt  this  wondrous  day. 

Wide  yawns  the  chasm  at  my  feet : 

The  river  sweeps  below  ; 
Yet  shadows  soft  from  yonder  peak, 

And  the  sunbeam's  golden  glow, 
Upon  it  rest ;  while  far  and  faint 
The  winds  take  up  its  echoing  plaint. 

14 


210  THE  SIEliRAS. 

A  crimson  cloud  goes  floating  by, 

Veiling  eternal  snows ; 
Like  sapphire  sea  is  yonder  sky, 

In  placid,  deep  repose  ; 
Above  me  far  is  a  dove  afloat, 
With  spotted  wing  and  snowy  throat. 

The  sunbeam  calleth  forth  the  flower ; 

And  it  lifts  its  beauteous  head 
Up  to  the  clouds  that  gently  lower 

White  crystals  round  its  bed, 
So  sweet  and  fair,  as  if  angel  bright 
Had  dropped  them  in  its  upward  flight. 


THE   SIERRAS. 

GRAND,  mysterious,  and  sublime, 
Unto  the  skies  they  towering  rise  ; 
Unto  the  plains  that  sleep  beneath 
The  radiant  glory  of  a  noonday  sun. 
A  thousand  lights  upon  them  quiver ; 
A  thousand  mystic  hues  inwrap  them. 
One  peak  lies  all  asleep 


THE  SIEKRAS.  211 

Beneath  a  royal-purple  veil 

Which  lightly  rests  upon  its  hoary  head 

Like  a  regal-purple  crown, 

White,  glittering  white  in  massive  grandeur : 

Some  mingle  with  the  clouds, 

Or  shoot  upward  far  beyond 

All  mortal  ken,  where  sapphire 

Fields  above  them  bend,  or 

A  sapphire  waveless  sea  sweeps 

Round  them  all  its  radiant  flood. 

Thought  that  wanders  free  — 

The  soul,  the  immortal  soul  of  man  — 

Shrinks  back  in  wonder  at  all  the 

Mysteries  that  enshroud  them  where  they  lie 

Silent,  save  with  all  the  voiceless  things  of 

Nature  ;  silent,  save  when  in  thunder-tones 

God  speaks,  and  sends  a  mountain  toppling 

To  the  sea  ;  silent,  save  when  an  earthquake, 

With  one  convulsive  heave,  rends  in  twain 

The  lofty  peaks,  and  tears  from  the  mountain's 

Heart  its  secrets,  revealing  to  the 

Astonished  gaze  chambers  peopled 

With  a  thousand  mysteries,  as  if 

Worlds  had  gone  to  sleep,  and  froze. 


212  DOLOR. 


DOLOR. 

MORN  flushed  the  sky ;  the  sun 
Rose  radiant  o'er  the  fields  of  day ; 

The  dun-hued  shadows  melted  one  by  one 
Into  unknown  realms  away. 

I  walked  abroad :  in  globules  bright 
Upon  the  grass  the  dew-drops  lay ; 
Upon  the  fields  the  star-blooms  white 
Unfolded  'neath  the  sun's  soft  ray ; 
And  stole  around 
The  low,  faint  sound 
Of  the  whispering  winds  at  play. 

To  stately  heights,  and  snowy-crowned, 
The  mountains  uprose  in  the  distance  away, 
And  brave  and  grand 
In  this  summer-land, 
Stretching  far  out  in  bold  array  ; 


DOLOR.  213 

And  the  bending  skies 

In  sweet  surprise 
Blushed  till  their  sapphire  hues 

Wore  rosy  crown  that  softly  shone 
Like  a  halo  bright  on  the  misty  white, 
On  the  fields  aglow  with  purple  light. 

Oh  !  never  shone  a  fairer  morn 

Than  this  morn  that  shone  on  me : 
Birds  ne'er  warbled  a  sweeter  song 

Than  my  heart  in  its  joy  and  glee. 

But  an  hour  passed  by  :  athwart  the  sky 

Circled  a  cold,  gray  cloud ; 
The  wind  died  out  with  a  wail  and  a  sigh ; 

The  mountains  were  hid  in  a  misty  shroud : 

And  my  joy  went  out  with  the  soft  sunshine ; 

With  the  frowning  clouds  it  fled : 
Now  ghastly  and  pale  these  hands  of  mine 

Close  round  it  cold  and  dead. 


214  TO  JOSEPHINE. 


TO   JOSEPHINE. 

THE  night  lias  fled ;  sweet  morn 
Has  wakened  all  the  earth  anew  ; 

Grand,  fair,  serene,  the  rising  sun 
Climbs  up  a  sea  of  blue, 

And  smiles.     Forthwith  the  smiling  sky 

Is  all  ablaze.     The  mountains  blush. 

Yon  peak,  folded  'neath  eternal  snows, 

Has  donned  a  royal-purple  robe 

Befitting  kings. 

The  modest  hills  blush  too. 

The  ancient  plains  lie  wrapped 

In  splendor,  like  a  sea  of  gold. 

Each  withered  blade  of  grass 

Might  be  a  silver  spear 

Dotted  with  diamonds. 

Worlds  wake  up  :  alas  for  me  ! 

I  wake  to  sorrow  ;  while  from 


TO  JOSEPHINE.  215 

Life's  poisoned  chalice  I  turn 

In  bitterness  away.     Out  upon 

Its  troubled  sea  my  frail  bark 

Drifts  and  drifts  on  to  unknown  shores  : 

Beneath  my  feet  the  billows  heave, 

And  all  the  trembling  flood  sweeps 

Round  me  like  an  icy  shroud. 

Afar,  only  afar,  I  see  the  spotless 

Glory  of  a  day  lit  up  with  gladness  ; 

Cool  winds  fan  my  fevered  brow  ; 

The  hum  of  life  begins  ; 

And  ships  go  by  with  sails 

Unfurled,  like  bird  on  snowy  wing. 

Alas  !  life's  mocking  sea 

Tempts  me  to  end  all  weariness 

In  this  unwearying  strife,  and  bid 

Farewell  to  earth  and  sky, 

And  make  this  glorious  sun  a  shroud 

Wherewith  to  wrap  my  weary 

Feet  around  ;  this  radiant  earth 

A  pillow,  whereon  I  may  repose 

In  dreamless  slumber  evermore, 

That  tender  voice  of  child 

Or  friend  calling  through 


216  TO  JOSEPHINE. 

The  gloom  I  should  not  hear, 

Nor  hear  the  singing  birds, 

Nor  see  glad  spring  break  on 

The  world  once  more. 

Ah,  death  comes  not  for  me  ! 

Life  is  the  crucible  wherein 

My  soul  awaits  its  purifying. 

That  process  o'er,  these  griefs  will  fade  ; 

These  pains  that  now  convulse  my  soul 

Will  be  but  earthly  shadows 

Scattered  'mid  the  waste  of  time. 

Eternity's  vast  shores  loom  on  my  vision, 

Grander,  fairer  than  the  sun, 

More  glorious  than  the  day  begun ; 

And  my  tired  spirit  patient  waits 

For  angels  to  fold  the  golden  gates 

Back  for  my  entrance  into  worlds  of  light 

Beyond  the  change  of  day  or  night. 


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